I did upload a huge group of pictures to Flickr and will be going through and adding the descriptions and whatnot to them over the next few days.

One of the tricks I’m going to have to learn is how to separate the personal and renovations photos so that they each show up on the correct blog.  I Did That will house all my renovation stuff and the more personal (and less interesting) things will be on here.

We will see.

The plat still hasn’t been signed off on by Columbia County, so the closing has been moved back to yet another tomorrow.

On the upside of losing 5 days of work, I play really good poker when I’m mad and my Full Tilt account balance has doubled in the last couple of days.

Oh, and just for the record, Todd Heath is a hateful little coal-hearted man who wished this on me and I hope he gets diaperchickenitis so bad that his bottom falls off.

Shortly thereafter, a hellified amount of work starts.

Much like the house we just sold, it’s a 1960’s ranch fixer-upper.  You know, that thing Marilyn said she would never buy again.  HA.  Actually, it’s not so much a fixer-upper as an updater.  The bones and structure of the house are in really good shape.  It’s well built, it’s just outdated.  It’s got a blue wall oven, for Pete’s sake.

I look forward to getting started on the projects inherent with buying such a thing, but waiting to start is maddening.  My wife and I have both made list after list after list of the things we need in each room, how much they cost, what color/design they should be, and it gets to be a bit overwhelming.  Communication becomes key in these things, since we don’t actually have a picture or designs drawn out, we each could (theoretically) have different ideas of what is being done in a room.  We are learning that when a conversation starts to get heated, it’s usually because some basic assumptions about the room are different and we are imagining two different (and conflicting) things.

And their have been some heated discussions.  Part is the aforementioned assumption problem, but part of it is nervousness and impatience and plain maddening waiting.  I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about cabinet doors and hinges.  I think about water drainage from gutters and harvest gold tiles.  At work, I find myself thinking about getting rid of green sinks.  My nerves are wearing a bit thin.  I’m losing sleep.  My appetite is shrinking.  I’m just plain distracted.  I’m just not good at waiting.  Either that or I’ve got diaperchickenitis.

Oh, and the dude that bought the house?  Complete jerk.  His checks cashed, though, and that’s what matters I suppose.

Not being ones to sit idly by, we have already made an offer on another house.  It’s a 1960’s ranch house that needs a bit of updating.  Sound familiar?  I thought so.  Let’s do it again!

I think handing Wall Street (or anybody for that matter) $700 billion is just plain stupid.  Taking the risk out of financial markets removes the only downside to making stupid loans at historically low rates.  And it doesn’t do a single thing to stop the foreclosures that are wreaking havoc on our country.

That having been said, I am now in the market for a house.  The more foreclosures, the better for me and my family, as it increases the supply and lowers the price of the available houses.  A giddy and cash-flush financial market will mean low rates on new mortgages.  Win-win for me and mine.

For perhaps the first time in my life, what is good for America and middle-class Americans, at least in the short term, isn’t in my best interest.

So, to all the Congress critters out there, if you are gonna do something stupid, do something stupid for me.

I’m eating the failed experiment anyways, cause I hate to waste food.  It’s okay, but not the deliciousness I expected.

I will try again soon.