(No) Word Wednesday *Special Super Moon Edition!*

Some real gems

Somanna has had some good ones here lately.

Exhibit A:  In the throes of debating THE BIG HOUSE decision and fretting over every possible scenario that could ever happen to us (the economy, layoffs,aging parents, bankruptcy, pregnancy, the election, cancer, bodily dismemberment, alien abductions, your normal worries…) Somanna attempted to comfort me with this nugget of wisdom:

“Don’t worry. Just remember God’s quote…you know, the one, uh.. how does it go?”

Me: “You mean verse?”

Somanna: “Yes! That’s it, God’s verse!”

Me: “Maybe we should go to church more often…”

Exhibit B:

Me: “I mean this house is awesome, I can see us here for 10 years!”

Somanna: “Really? 10 years?!?? I can’t see anything for that long!”

(BIG PAUSE)

Somanna: “Except for you know, being married to you. I mean, that’s like FOR-EVER! youknowwhati’msaying?!”

 

 

You just can’t script these things yall.

An Open Letter

Dear Lady on the Other Side of the Cube Wall,

Thank you for blaring country music all day at work just loud enough so I can hear it, but not decipher the artist or song. Because of your inability  to properly interpret “appropriate volume levels,” I now hear phantom twang and fiddles everywhere I go. To the point, I “turned off” my kitchen radio before I realized it wasn’t even on.

I do not mean to hate on country music, I am foremost a fan and a secondly a Southerner, but I think most would agree the listening to squeaky fiddles and nasal voices for eight hours continuously ranks somewhere underneath water boarding, but above sleep deprivation. In other words, it is the torture choice of the mundane.

Secondly, I try real hard not to eavesdrop honey, but surely you realize a cubicle wall provides about as much privacy as a paper gown during a gynecological exam. I’m going hear and see things that the Good Lord never intended me to witness. So if you could reserve your family drama for the lunch hour, or at least my lunch hour, my gratitude would surpass the twitching caused by the incessant fiddles. (Make them stop, please!)

Also, you could be a little nicer. I sometimes wonder if your head has been replaced by a spitting cobra the way you hiss on the phone at presumably your family – surely no one would choose to endure your behavior . I try to pray for you (for both of us really) because, much to my unintended efforts, I have come to learn that you have a loved one who is ill and perhaps that is the source of your stress and hatefulness.

Until I run into you in the bathroom ,or the hallway, or some other common area, and attempt to engage the simple pleasantries, much like the ones your radio station sings about. This is almost always met with warmth of a thousand deadly icicles.  I am trying here sweetie, so please work with me and give me something. An awkward smile, a blank stare, something a little less frightening than your impersonation of Kathy Bates from Misery.

Again, I know you are under stress. So I will continue to pray for you.

I just might pray for me more.

Love,

Peaches

BOOM!

Friends, family, loved ones, lurking internet strangers……mark your calendars!

Because we close on our perfectly imperfect house FRIDAY, MAY 25TH!!!

Hollla!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The third time’s the charm…or is it?

I should be cleaning the bathroom now, but instead I decided to “be productive” by blogging.

You.are.welcome.

So, when you last left your heroine (moi), she and her leading man were in the throes of craziness, biting their nails as they anxiously awaited word if their offer was accepted on a foreclosure property.

Let me save you some suspense: our low ball offer was….rejected.

Self Induced Craziness

I know, we’ve been too quiet lately. That’s mostly because we’re really boring, but I like to think you harbor the illusion that our lives are so exciting and glamorous that we just can’t be bothered to blog.

Riiiighhht.

This week, however, has been interesting. And emotional.

And here’s why. We have fallen in lurrvvv.  Oh, cue the Celine!!

There really are whispers in the morning…and long, heartfelt chats late at night.

We have a touch of house fever.

Were we looking?

Nope, not really. I mean I peruse listings online the way I peruse 597 million other things online. I just don’t effing pin them. Sorry, but I have a love/hate affair with Pintrest. But that’s a whole other post. Mostly, it makes me want to vomit. And yet I go back. What is wrong with me??

Anyhoos, some friends who live in a neighborhood that I’ve had a major crush on for about three years before we even moved back here, sent us a foreclosure listing and well….that prompted a drive by. And THAT prompted a look inside. Which prompted a second look through and FOUR DAYS later, we’ve put in an offer.

Say, WHAAATTT?!

Yea I know, four days. It’s f*cking ridiculous. Sorry for the language yall. But these matters warrant a little sailor speak.

Now before you begin saying your Hail Mary’s for our financial solvency, lemme ‘splain sum tings to ju.

First and foremost, while yes, we have submitted an offer, we are not committed. There are still several (SEVERAL!) points in the process ahead where we can walk away, with no losses, no obligations. Hell, no explanation really.  You can just say “Peace Out Fool” and be done with it.

Personally, I would love to put that in writing.

(No) Word Wednesday

Yay, family!