ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stoopid peeple I have quite possibly encountered the STOO-puh-dest people on the face of the earth. Today around 4:30pm, the doorbell rang. It was a couple in their forties, who really, really wanted to be bikers with all their might. Anyone could see they were geeks in costume, trying to play real bikers. The woman was wearing a denim jacket and I half expected to see the logo for "Heck's Angels" written in Magic marker across the back. Their tattoes looked like the kind you had as a kid - where you licked your arm, then stuck them on and they smeared two seconds later. Anyway, they said they were interested in seeing the house. I told them that, for all intents and purposes, the house was sold, but they were welcome to look through it anyway (forgetting what day and age this is and everything my mother taught me about allowing strange, wannabe bikers into my home). Evan had passed out on the couch, after yet another day of school that did him in. Thanks, school! I asked the pseudo-bikers for forgiveness for the way the house looks (cluttered with boxes). The woman said, "Oh are you moving?" No. I plan to live right here with the people who buy the house. I entertained the thought of telling her that I simply enjoyed packing my shit up into boxes, labelling them, then unpacking them again. "It's like Christmas!" But i thought better of it. I showed them the living room and told them with a nonchalant wave of my hand, "Don't mind my son on the couch - he's unconscious... " The woman shrieked, "OH MY GOD!" As the man said, "Have you called an ambulance?!" For Christ's sake. Sarcasm is one of the many services I offer and frankly, I'm taken aback when people don't recognize it. I assured them that Evan was indeed alive and breathing, but was simply asleep. Maybe it was my sick sense of humor or my eye-rolling that did it, but the not-quite-biker couple left without viewing the rest of my lovely home. It's just as well. They might have spotted my other children hanging from the shower rods. You do know I'm kidding, don't you? Recognize and respect my sarcasm, please. Pay homage to it, even. I talked to the realtor today who told me we'll get a sold sign in the yard as soon as the inspection phase is complete (tomorrow). We got a call from the new apartment complex. Evidently, the girl with whom we dealt Friday, was working there on a temporary basis from another office. She made an error, not in our favor. The townhouse we agreed to rent is in fact, not available for short term lease. It's only available for 12-month leases. We signed a lease, so we may be able to hold them to letting us rent the townhouse as planned. If it falls through, we'll end up in the tiny little two bedroom unit we toured. It's 614 square feet!!! We'd go insane in that place. *Sigh* But if it has to be that way, at least we'd be saving a ton of money, because it's only $685 a month. Shit. I really hope we get the townhouse. We need the room. Kevin is out tonight with Matt. It's Matt's 21st birthday. I was invited to go too, but the way the kids have been lately, I didn't want to burden a sitter with them. I don't know where they ended up going, but it was rumored that the casino was part of the plan. Pffft... what people see in gambling, I'll never know. I have two perfectly good toilets at home I can flush my money down. I don't need to go to a loud, smokey room filled with blue-haired old ladies to lose a small fortune. But I guess you have to do it once, on your 21st birthday. Stephanie told Kevin that Matt would be $200 short in buying the tool box that he wants. How ironic... that's the exact amount we planned to give him for his birthday. Her not-so-subtle hint was wasted. I think I'll head to bed and avoid another up-all-night episode like last night. Take care, all! 9:20 p.m. - 2003-07-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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