Tag Archives: Indian Burial Ground

This just in

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A letter from the Bureau of Foolish Decisions arrived to tell me to buy flood insurance. Apparently there is a 1% chance per year of encountering a Hundred Year Flood, based on the fact that the place is basically a fucking houseboat. I don’t get it, because it’s not a 100 year mortgage, so, duh, we’ll never make a 100% chance. At least that’s what I think I learned in seventh grade math.

I don’t even know what term the mortgage is. We’re giving them some money, and then that continues until we get tired of the place, just like renting. In the end, we don’t actually own anything, because only $12 a month goes to principal. But theoretically we’ll make money via this not owning anything since the non-owned property becomes more valuable when other people pay more to not really own in it in several years.

I need to lie down. I done thought too much. I am going to see if buying a canoe would count as flood insurance. It seems like a handy thing to have anyway. And I could beat bird flu victims to death with the paddles.

Breakfast: what a fucking bitch

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Man, I have been chewing for about an hour, and I am still not finished with this bowl of cereal. Kashi Crunch is the Bataan death march of cereal eating. Is that a rock in there? I think it’s an igneous rock.

Yesterday Mr. H and I put on hip waders and slogged upstream to check on our hovel. In theory, we can give the developer more money and start living in it (the loft, not the money, although I have always wanted a money bin) next month. But there are only about four feet left before the foundation floods, so it’s really anyone’s game. We met two dudes boosting each other to peer in the windows, and it turns out they will be our upstairs neighbors. Those grandiose maniacs have purchased two units and are planning to knock out the wall between them. The developer is still forcing them to accept installation of a kitchen in each unit, so they will have to rip one out. They offered us an extra fridge. I guess I could set it on its side and nap in it. We made fun of the color of the hallway and vowed to reconvene later to hate the drapery choices of others. Too bad this friendship will be all over once they see that we live like animal. I don’t even own a pastry marble!

On the walk back, I found a pair of washed up thong underwear and a Precious Moments change purse. If that’s not lucky, I don’t know what is.

Is it raining in here?

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Oh, why, yes it is! Up above my head. I hear music in the air. I’m going to chalk it up to demonic activity. When I serve decaf, the house spirits get so bent.

What a vexing day. Faxes don’t send, and seeds get stuck in my teeth. Also, I am pretty sure I saw our future house floating down the river this morning. Flood insurance, you say, flood insurance. How about that. Don’t mind me, I live on a raft. Huck? Is dat you?

Replaced comment system since the last one had the nerve to close. All of David’s wit and wisdom is down the drain. Dust in the wiiiiind. All we are….

Area idiots meet, spontaneously form condo association

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Dear, sweet, internets. Last night I met many of the people with whom I will share a haunted mill starting in October. At last I understand how the federal government could have abandoned all those people in the Gulf states. People are just plain stupid! They walk among us, holding down jobs and passing driver’s license tests and going to the grocery store, where they will most certainly crash the express lane with a full cart. Later they will back their SUV into you in the parking lot.

They say things like “You’ll have to check with the sales team on that one,” or “I don’t know what to do with these truckloads of bottled water.” And people say things like “I did, and they told me the opposite of what you just told me” or “How about you park them and hand out the water.” And then they say things like “My hands are tied, you’re really going to have to check with the sales team/Condoleeza Rice.” They also say “The documents have changed since you last saw them when you signed your purchase and sale agreements months ago, but you don’t get to see them until your closing day, but at that time it won’t matter because they will already be recorded with the state.” And they want us to confirm John Roberts without a fight.

So some people stay behind to eat frosted brownies and look at the discounted window treatments being pimped, and others form an angry mob and stand outside, muttering “Oh God, what have we done? Can you believe these people?” But secretly we, the angry people, want discount window treatments too. Then we hate ourselves so much that we go have mojitos. And we all drive our own cars to get those mojitos. And we hate ourselves more, so we come home and lie on the floor. We feel better when we wake up the next day, but not much.

Wee paws for station identification

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OMG, Internet, OMG. We’ve been on quite a spree around my place. The clocks are all flashing 11:11 at least twice a day, and the sink isn’t clogged anymore.

We went to my little nephew’s “parade” for Little League opening day. It was pouring rain, and we stood in it while hundreds of children swarmed around the block, led by a police car that occasionally flashed its lights. It was a real zen koan of a parade: Is it still a parade if no one is watching? This didn’t really bother my nephew, because he is a star. He is doing jazz hands in the group photo.

So what the fuck else. I’m learning Mandarin Chinese, and that’s tough. The inflections are a killer. You think I’m kidding, but I’m afraid I’m not. The more plausible something seems, the more likely I made it up. So if I’m telling you I brushed my teeth, I probably didn’t. Bought tickets to Easter Island? You bet!

I was having dinner with some friends the other night, and we were doing “roommate rundown.” I mentioned someone I’d lived with for three years, and idly wondered what happened to her. After dinner, we stopped at a bookstore, and her father stopped me in the Shakespeare aisle and gave me her phone number. Noo noo noo noo, twilight zone. But why is that if I say “I wish I had two billion dollars,” I never run into that in a bookstore?

Then today I think we impulse-bought a loft. We were just out for a walk, and then a little of this and a little of that, and some business cards were exchanged, and things were signed, oh boy. We should not be allowed out without supervision. My lawyer is gonna love this. Oh well.

Then I called to tell my parents about the loft, and somehow I ended up having a conversation with my mother about anal sex. For the record, she’s not that into it, but I suggested that she just didn’t give it a fair shake.