kittydesade: (bad day)
Gaeilge )

Still so-so-so pissed about the boiler thing. On the other other hand, I'm going to call up the inspector today and see if it's reasonable to do a two-part inspection or if I should just tell him, no, sorry, I'll try this again when the bank gets their head out of their ass. On the plus side... I may have mentioned this before but last night's frothing rage was considerable. On the plus side, they're getting in bids for the work now which indicates to me that they plan to replace the boiler. Which is good because while I can accept and cope with the cost of repairing the leak in the bathroom ceiling, I do not want to have to fucking replace the goddamn boiler because they didn't fucking check the heat beforehand like they said they were going to. Or possibly like the listing agent said they were going to, which makes me want to smack him for not being sure of his facts.

Deep breaths. Calming down, forming a battle plan. Our Realty Lady asked last night and we discussed it a bit, whether or not we want to look at other houses. The problem is we are never going to find anything so awesome as this house; quite aside from the historical value for the size of the house and the price we're paying it is a steal. The other option, though, is getting a renovation loan for New and Busted, which might not be a bad plan either. Same-ish square footage, more recent construction, different kind of work needed entirely. I don't know. But Bri doesn't think we need to, and while I don't want to... I also don't think this is going to be something that's going to prevent us from getting the house. It's just fucking annoying. If the inspection turns up something completely new, that might prevent us from getting the house. But we won't know until they let me get the inspector in the fucking house to begin with.

I said I was going to stop abusing italics. I lied.

I'm so tired of house shit sapping my energy. At least I've done most of the things I need to do today regarding that. I just need to call the inspector and scan in the letter of explanation as to why I suddenly had a chunk of money deposited into my account. "Family members gave me monies for house" should be common enough that I don't think I need to go into much detail, but I ended up being uberformal anyway.

If I'm very very lucky, today will go well, I will have cope not to chew everyone's heads off, and I will get some writing and writing-related things done as well as all my languages. If today goes somewhere around the state of the last couple days, between the randomass credit card and the randomass boiler cock-up, I may declare the rest of the week Horsies Forever. There is only so much shit I can cope with at once, and writing vs house shit seems to be it. Maybe Horsies forever will become knitting and Arabic writing forever, though, because calligraphy is actually kind of fun.

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kittydesade: (priestess)
日本語 )

And Arabic accounting here and here. I think it's getting easier, slowly but surely? My handwriting is also getting way smaller. Although I might need to reinstitute the practice of using lines. Which might just involve making a sheet of lines and slipping it under whatever page I'm working on. And I definitely need to figure out how to refill my ink cartridges with a syringe, because they're emptying way too quickly. Problems I hadn't realized I'd have when I started this! In a way, this makes me even more eager to get this house deal done and get the house, because then I can have a real desk at which to do this. I hope.

Well, that was possibly the weirdest collection of dreams I've had in a while. Highlights include going to the women's bathroom of some communal living thing that was laid out a bit like an old dorm or a hotel. Either it was a woman's dorm or it was the women's bathroom, I'm not sure which. I was talking to some friend, and we were getting undressed to bathe. Yes, bath, not shower, as is customary. The bath was pretty nice and deep, though, it would have been a fun soak. People are going up and down the hallway of both sexes, so I'm assuming in was the women's bathroom, or during the day men are allowed? Or something. And there's a knock and I open the door and it's either Rupert Graves or Lestrade. I'm more inclined to believe Lestrade. And he makes some kind of would-be snarky comment except he's too busy trying not to stare. And I'm not helping by basically being aggressive with my very naked body language. Sort of Irene Adler-y, at least Moffat's interpretation of her. And then I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, and ... OH. Oh god, ahaah, now I remember what the conversation was about, somehow this got around to my weight. I think because he threatened to pick me up. And I told him yes, I was 5'1" and about 150, 160. And he started to say 120 and I corrected him and he sort of stammered, and I pointed out that I was very, very solid. And he could find out for himself, and that led to pressing up against him and arms around and kissing and so on. And I'm pretty sure he didn't know where to put his hands.

So, that happened in my dream. And then later I'm wandering the halls in my bathrobe and somehow I end up knocking on Misha Collins' unit door, because he's in the dorm hall? Or his wife is and he's just bunking with her, as you do when you're in college. In your late thirties. I don't judge. And I'm in my bathrobe or lounge clothes, or anyway not real grown up clothes but not naked anymore. And I come in and for some reason there's been a last minute cancellation and I need him or his wife for something. I ask... first I ask him about calculating something. Then he shrugs and says ask her, she's on the computer. So I ask her to calculate something, allowing for inflation in the last 5 years and the increase in value in something-to-do-with-Misha. I don't know what. I mean, the increase in value I get given that he's now all over the internet, but I don't remember what I was asking originally. She calculates in, we talk, we bond apparently over my economical savvy? Of all things. And their taste in comics, since they have most to all of the Akira manga on their bookshelf.

Anyway, so we end up running off with Misha Collins' wife as some last minute addition to some kind of team doing something? And we all have to prepare for this mission, which might have been what I was doing in the bathing sequence. And apparently for Misha's wife this involves drinking some foul tasting concoction of milk and some kind of powder that looks like blue flecks. And she drank half a small pitcher in one swallow and made terrible grimaces while I stretched out on the floor, using some guy as a spotter. And all of us were discussing our assignment. And then I woke up.

So, really, what the hell, brain. Although now I have this urge to write shameless Lestrade-oriented self-insert steamy fiction. Not even necessarily NC17 rated, just steamy. Or maybe kinky porn. I don't know. It's a weird urge. And I need to finish that All You Can Kink Kink Bingo before February ends. Too distracted with house stuff. God, there's a whole list of things I want to write today. This weekend. Plus pack, plus make beans. All right, let's ennumerate them.

1. Lestrade fic-kle.
2. Loki/Darcy
3. J3

4. Long Road
5. Subversive Mummies
6. BigBang Mixups
7. Organize Triumvirate world-building
8. Organize mecha for BBM story.

And that's not as big a list as I thought, but it's sizable. Okay, and now for the latest in house news: WE ARE UNDER CONTRACT. Which means finally, fucking finally we might be able to get the inspector in. Appointment's scheduled for Thursday. And right now it's just the inspector and getting the funding, which we have to do quicklyish, but which should be very do-able. I'm not sure how close to home we are, I'd say, pretty close? But at least we're a step further than we were, which, considering this all feels like slogging through sulphur-reeking mud, is all good by me. (And then again at the same time we started just casually looking in January. So it's probably moving much faster than I think it is.) We're under contract. That means, I hope, that no one can snipe the house out from under me. That's all I want for right now. Now I can collect data and chew on it till it becomes clay.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (sherlock and kitten)
Deutsch )

Yes, still being a shallow bitch re: Kiera Cass's first book, The Siren. But I'm confining myself to being a shallow bitch in private after some nudging from a friend. I still think the book is terribly written. It looks rather like something I would have written early on in high school. Hell, it reminded me that there are still some things I wrote that were probably published and out there right now that really deserve sporking, too. But the frothing rage and mad derisive laughter will remain private. I am, however, enjoying using it as an exercise in what not to do and why I write using the words, structures, images and phrases I do.

And I will admit that there are maybe two instances of word choice per page or so where the text is pretty purple, but that might be a convention of the genre rather than her being a bad writer. There are reasons I don't really read romance novels.

Today seems to be an editing day, actually. Between sporking the hell out of this book and editing my own stuff (which, while I do think the first draft is better, there's only maybe a third less red and commentary, just to give you an idea of how harsh an editor I am) there is a lot of breaking down text and analyzing the craft going on.

And then, you know, I commented that I'd read better 18th century French porn (for the joke, look at my username) and I realized that my journal is nine years and six days old today, on LJ. Holy crap. Happy birthday to my journal! It is now older than some of my cousins' kids. Possibly all of them.

I think that's it. There was a last minute freak out from yours truly about the bank needing a pre-approval letter (AGAIN) and me wondering if I needed to grab Bri and make him wake up and drive up to downtown to present paperwork but, no. That all got submitted by the wonderful, wonderful people who seriously need fruit baskets when this is all over, Mortgage Lady and Realty Lady. So that's all handled and now I just have to wait to hear when it's been signed by the selling bank, and then actually get the freaking paperwork home this time, deal with that over the weekend, and get it to Mortgage Lady on Monday. Which is really, really do-able. I feel so much calmer and lighter now.

Seriously, anyone want my cheese egg?

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kittydesade: (nameless is dubious)
Deutsch )

Remember that whole thing I said about all the paperwork getting turned in and no more having to hold ten billion things in my head? I lied. I mean, okay, I knew the loan paperwork details were going to come in soon, that's less annoying, but apparently my instincts were correct yesterday on two points and so the forms got filled out wrong. And then I had to do about 30-40 minutes of last minute running around (literally, I was running back and forth between the store and the Horse and Cart bank, which is the next block over) to fix things up. However. That's done. And when I get home from work today I will track down all the relevant paperwork, most of which should be either in my bag or in my box and fuck. I forgot, today's a payday. Which will make getting consecutive paystubs easier but dammit, I forgot to turn in my timesheet. Where the fuck has my brain gone.

Ahem. Anyway. So, yeah. Tracking down all the relevant paperwork when I get home, not worrying about it now. I had a moment of terror when I saw that list and thought, there's no way I can possibly get this all to Mortgage Lady before noon tomorrow! Then sanity reasserted itself in the form of friends and Also-Mes and smacked me upside the head with, no, what they needed was the signed addendums to the offer and the earnest money check. This is mortgage stuff, they need this before closing. Which is in April. And anyway, we can scan that all in and get it to Mortgage Lady tomorrow.

Keeping all the logistics of this in my head is a pain in the ass. Or a pain in the head. Or both. Actually, I haven't been having much in the way of headaches lately, though. Just really tired.

Also I feel like I need to plant a tree or three as an apology for all the damn paper I'm wasting on this.

Some Once Upon A Time Spoilers )

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kittydesade: (two in red)
Deutsch )

I keep thinking I'm going to get a rest the next day. And it keeps not happening. I did manage to get in a fifteen minute nap at work, which you can do when you work for a family business and you've been staggering around wrecked all morning, and everyone knows you're locked in a death match with a bank. My iSis alarm sounds like a klaxon alarm more than an alarm clock. It kind of amuses me.

Right, so. We did the paperwork, got the certified funds for the Yes-We're-Serious-About-This deposit which will be the third freaking check I've sent along to them. And now I need to burn the other two voided ones. Passed it along to Realty Lady in a startlingly clandestine covert ops type handoff. Seriously, she pulled up in a non-descript SUV, I walked up with a briefcase and a sheaf of papers and done. All that's missing is Matt Damon with his soberserious face getting ready to run somewhere. Anyway, that's done, and she'll turn it in tomorrow which is a day and a few hours short of their deadline to turn it in, which starts the clock and then there's just the inspection to get past and the Horse and Cart bank to deal with. Which, everyone at Horse and Cart has been absolutely sweet and amazing. It's the selling bank that makes me want to shake them and tell them to stop being a big bag of dicks.

Okay, so, you remember yesterday's howling mouse? Today science brings you legless amphibians. I swear, truth stranger than fiction. There's pictures, too. They really do look like earthworms.

Oh, and since I posted it on tumblr, we have Rumplestiltskin's wheel in our store. Both of them, actually. The first is the great wheel or walking wheel he uses in all of his past scenes, and the second is the smaller one he had in his hut. And at some point when I get home, someone remind me, I will dig up a screencap of Desperate Souls and point out where he has spinning accouterments in the back of his shop. Because I about died of giggles when I saw them. I swear, part of my enjoyment of Once Upon A Time is the fact that they're constantly having Rumplestiltskin be doing things with the spinning. That said, I still have no idea what the hell was going on with the setup of the great wheel in the scenes in Skin Deep. I'd have to go back and look, but it really didn't look like it should if one was actually spinning.

Which leads to, dammit. I should have asked Robert Carlyle if he actually learned to spin for OUAT. Oh well. Next time he's on.

(Oh. And this is my own wheel. Only now it's buried in a pile of other crap because my tinyass craft room doubles as the storage room and I can't WAIT to be moved into Old Hotness so I can HAVE SOME GODDAMN ROOM TO SPIN.

The answer to Belle's question of "Why do you spin so much?" is clearly "BECAUSE I CAN.")

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (put some pants on)
Gaeilge )

You know, I didn't actually forget that, usually, you're sore the next day. And somehow I thought it would be worse than this. That said, ow. Although more oof than ow. Really, really tired, physically exhausted. Starting to hit brain drain, too. The point at which I cannot cope with taking in any new information without letting go of some of the old.

That said, hopefully the bank visit today will clear some of that. If we can get the paperwork done on that and get a time estimate on completion, I'll know when to start the clock between now and Friday morning. And then the inspector has an appointment open next week that's pretty close, that will fit right into everyone's schedule, and I can get that rolling too. And then we still have until mid-April to close, but sweet mother they want this closed fast. I wouldn't have so much of a problem if they weren't trying to rush me through it fast enough that I doubt my ability to get everyone else to move as fast. I mean, I want to curl up and nest in Old Hotness and fend off all comers, but really? A week? To get all the financials and inspections done? Seriously?

I suppose the relatively good thing is, even if the house does appraise for less, I suspect my family can leap in to cover the gap. I really, really don't want to have to go to them, though, and be all "Yeah, the banks are fucking me over, can I have $Canada more to cover between what it appraised for and therefore what the Horse and Cart bank will give me, and what Jackass Bank is actually selling it for?" Ugh.

Although of all the difficulties, this is... not the one I expected.

Proof that my town is wackier than yours. A local weapons/ammo manufacturer is making anti-zombie ammunition. The article says it's live, defensive-quality ammo, with such features as glow in the dark tips. I have no idea if they're selling the apparently very good crack they're smoking with the rounds, but. My god. This town be crazy, yo.

Okay, at this point I think I've gone over what I need to do today enough times in my own head that I might even remember it as it's happening. If not, I've talked about it enough here, those of you who find me in chat can smack me upside the head and remind me. After this week I am curling up over the weekend and doing nothing but immersing myself in fake people problems. TV, books, writing of my own, whatever. Fake people problems that I can solve by turning off the TV, closing the book, or closing the document. Because I am sick and tired of my real people problems/obligations already, and it's only Wednesday. ... Shit, really? When the hell did it get to be Wednesday? Dammit, time, stop passing when I'm not looking, slow down so I can catch up.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (affairs of dragons)
Deutsch )

Note to self: Print up this recipe when home. (It's a bean quesadilla, for the curious.)

And in further news, science is just fucking awesome. And terrifying. The terrifying is the mouse that roared. Or in this case, howled. Yes, this is a carnivorous mouse that howls before it kills. Like a wolf. It's fucking freaky. And then there's also the 30,000 year old flowering plant grown from seeds found in the Russian permafrost. Is this exciting or what?? You are not allowed to say or what, it is only exciting.

I feel like sort of an inverse Gune. Instead of a triumphant "I'VE FINISHED MY NAP" I want to shriek "I'M READY FOR MY NAP." I also would like to know why my right index finger feels like I've been doing all the slide notes ever. Especially when I fret with my left. And I would like to register a complain about banks requiring everything to be done NOW NOW NOW when THE BANKS won't freaking get back to you for a day per question. So, for everyone else to see and so I remember, there are four addendums (There! Are! Four! Addendums! shut up I'm punchy.) two of which aren't really a problem, but two of which boil down to: when things are signed, you have 7 days and 10 days to get the inspection and mortgage loan respectively. Now, this shouldn't actually be a problem, but I'd much much rather have the inspection and definitely the mortgage appointment before the clock starts. Because of reasons. And nerves. Anyway, the mortgage shouldn't be a problem because we were pre-approved for the original, higher amount, did the number crunching on that, and it was at the top end of our budget anyway. And this is $Gophers lower.

SO. THINGS. Note to self, self: Tomorrow morning, unless Realty Lady says something dire and different.
1. Call Mortgage Lady at bank and schedule the damn appointment.
2. Set up appointment with Inspector Guy and then email to thank him for his patience and confirm. (Tues 9?)
3. POTENTIAL: Meet with Realty Lady and sign paperwork to start clock in a timely fashion.

And I think that's all the really big things I need to keep in my head for the next 24-48 hours. And once these potential appointments become real appointments I can keep them in my iSis and not have to worry about keeping them in my head. Because right now, dear lord and mother of all, I am amazed I can keep anything in my head for more than an hour or two at this rate. Oh, further note to self: Go back and look over the to-write list for today when you get home because none of that got done in between all the OTHER work and non-work related shit. But I did get languages and my publishing schedule fixed.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (Default)
Deutsch )

Tired. So very tired. I think I keep underestimating the emotional toll this whole house thing is taking out of me. It's not unreasonable to carry some stress over where you're going to live in a couple of months. Are the odds good that we'll get the house and not pay over what we can afford for it? Yes. Does that mean this is in any way shape or form settled? No. Thus, uncertainty. Thus, stress. Come on, Jag, you know this. Account for it, install coping mechanisms, do not beat yourself up for needing coping mechanisms or ignore the need for them.

Really, I want to just curl up with Once Upon A Time and write stupid Gold self-insert fanfic forever for the next week. So far I have, self-insert character breaks into his house, curls up in his chair, drinks his juice/booze, and tells him he's an idiot and a jackass. Because he is. Admittedly, mostly the latter than the former, but still. I have... Okay, I don't have so much self-insert fanfic. I have The Courtship of Rumplestiltskin and his Lady to finish and I have probably another Ruby/Gold to write. I also want to do that self-insert pointless fic set to Florence + the Machine's Howl with someone/Gold but I haven't figured out how to do that one yet. I also want to write fic involving smacking Rumplestiltskin upside the head every time he giggles like that. Or, no, every time he fakes that stupid high-pitched cackling mad persona. I think that was one of the things I liked most about Skin Deep; it gave us a glimpse of Rumplestiltskin speaking openly, honestly, and normally, instead of pretending to be more erratic and deranged than he really is.

... Which actually makes me wonder just how over the top he went after we left him in Desperate Souls, and how long it took him to regain some semblance of normality. Obviously some parts of him broke forever, he goes around exploding fairies and turning people into objects without blinking even when he's not the tittering idiot, but the gleeful rage we saw when he slaughtered the soldiers doesn't seem to be there. And it all reads like he went, well, mad with power for a bit and then dragged himself back to some form of stability. And, see, that's a story I'd be interested in seeing. As opposed to Regina, who only seems to be doing things for the Evulz.

Actually, that's another thing. Rumplestiltskin has issues which have subscriptions to entire catalogs of back-issues, but to me, he doesn't read as either psychopath or sociopath. Severely damaged person who went through a horrible war, spent years twitching with PTSD, then flipped into a whole other phase where all these feelings burst out into murderous violence. Which made him a very dangerous person to be around and, in all likelihood though we never see it, a highly unfit father. Which is kind of sad, but there you go. And then years pass and somewhere in between then and 'now' in fairy tale land he became someone so detached from humanity in general that individual lives have little meaning for him, and so dangerous in a whole other way. But at neither point was he inherently psycho- or socio-pathic. It's all learned behavior/reactionary, whereas we've seen nothing from the Evil Queen in either incarnation to indicate she ever had any ability to relate to other human beings on any kind of emotional level, ever. Two different types of monsters. One, heh, significantly more interesting than the other. I mean, there probably can be interesting sociopaths, just look at half the crime dramas, but god, EQ is so damn dumb sometimes.

I also feel like I should double check my definitions to make sure I'm using the correct term for murderous-volatile-Rumple. Ah well.

Right. I want to go home and curl up with all the Clayne Crawford episodes of everything ever. What will probably happen is I'll go home, do my guitar practice, do my Japanese, and then curl up with writing and try not to create several characters with my latest lust object's face while I'm doing my writing. Such is this crazy life of mine. And I have to make sure the goddamn fridge and freezer are actually working, I forgot, fucking hell. God I want to be in this new house and fuck the rest of this stress crap.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (komm zu mir)
Deutsch )

I hate house-buying.

I have come to this conclusion that, admittedly, I already suspected. I hate looking at houses because I'm incredibly picky. Not that I have an idea that this room should open up onto that room and the other room, but I have an idea of how much space I want, and in what rooms, and how much I want to pay for what. Which makes me picky even in a buyer's market, which this is, and dear lord have I mentioned we are getting an awesome interest rate? Ahem. But I hate looking at houses, I hate dealing with the fucking goddamn paperwork, I hate legalese, and I hate bureaucracy. At least everyone involved is being a perfect doll about everything.

So, the upshot and cause of this tirade is that there is no inspection tomorrow, because the bank just now decided to let us know that they want the house under contract before they'll turn on the utilities, which makes an inspection largely futile. Tomorrow, then, instead of going out to Old Hotness (*weeps*) to inspect it, we'll go over to our realty lady and sign the sapling's worth of offer paperwork. Put down our earnest money, make the whole thing contingent on a good inspection. I'm reasonably confident that it'll be okay and, more importantly, the boy is reasonably confident that it'll pass inspection. And he's much less biased and ready to piss a circle around the house than I am. And then we'll have that started, and then the inspection can happen, and there will be pictures for everyone. So it's not a major setback. Just a very, very irritating one.

Anyway. My last arm warmer is almost off needles! After that I can work on all the hope chest things ever. I've already got one placemat started, I'm not sure what to do other than placemats and doilys. People! Help! What else should go in a hope chest? Other than sheets, because I am damn well not embroidering sheets with stupid little patterns. and I don't have an actual chest to put this stuff in. Oops. But, you know.

Argh I can't wait to tell you people about Old Hotness. Argh, I say!

Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (this old house)
Deutsch )

We went to the bank today and came out with a fucking pre-approval letter for the amount we needed. And depending on how the inspection goes, if it turns out to be a house and not a heffalump, we will be calling her and asking maybe to pick up on the way by the bank to the real estate office a pre-approval letter for a more appropriate amount for what we're going to offer. But yes, we are fucking approved. And I have the necessary monies in my hot little account and everything is beautiful. But the waiting is still the hardest part. I've been assured on multiple fronts that probably no one is going to grab Old Hotness in the next two days, before we do. I still dislike the waiting.

But, you know, there it is. And I have my homework for Thursday, which is to say, looking over all the inspection reports I have and taking note of the boojums therein, for although common snarks do no manner of harm, there are the boojums... And, you know, that's why we pay the inspectors.

But yes. I have a pile of excitement, you guys. And on Friday if all goes well and we put in the offer I will tell you straight of Old Hotness and all of its glory. In the meantime, Prop 8's blatant and unashamed unconstitutionality has been re-upheld (which is to say Prop 8 has been deemed Not Suitable for Law) and somehow Bill O'Reilly jumped to our side for a second, which, really? Is it opposite day and no one told me? And I can do my taxes now and it has been largely an awesome day. Except for the whole waking up almost an hour early thing. Now I just have to go home and get some goddamn sleep. And Thursday, ohhh lordy Thursday the excitement happens.

Hopefully, there will only be snarks.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (high hopes)
Deutsch )

HALP HALP IT'S A HEFFALUMP. And by Heffalump I mean it's a bank appointment tomorrow with the third and hopefully final bank to talk about loans, pre-approvals, things, stuff, blargh. The first bank was toooooo slow. The second bank was tooooo fast. The third bank hopefully was just right? It's Goldilocks and the Three Banks! And you can tell how nervy I am about this by how utterly cracktastic that whole paragraph was. Fear my hyperactive nervousness.

At least I'm getting stuff done. Slowly but surely. Getting stuff done, I have a to-do list and I'm working on that. Slowly pounding stuff out, but getting more and more used to actually separating the work like it's supposed to be separated, which is a little more productive. I'm getting my spreadsheet tools and some essays up, slowly but surely. Hopefully I can have that done by the end of the week so I have a resources post. Black Ice seems to keep churning out ideas pretty quick, too, which amuses me.

And, you know. All of this is probably pretty good because it gives me things to do for All The Sorcery Monday. Because Skin Deep is going to, unless I'm much mistaken, rip me and my watching partner down one side and up the other. And then we're going to hide behind Robert Carlyle in a red thong.

Anyway, things are happening. Things are happening very fast. But I think I'm juggling all of the things with a fair amount of success. I just hope I can keep juggling till I can set some of this crap down.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (cool daddy-o)
Deutsch )

I present for your perusal, the next creation of CBS, a romantic time travel musical. I only wish I were joking. The hell, people? Seriously, what the hell?

Also, argh. That's it, tonight I am packing up all that crap I keep meaning to send, since none of it is exactly perishable, and I am shipping it out tomorrow. Because I really need to remember that. And part of it is that I keep shipping footstuffs and therefore I try to remember to ship it at the beginning of the week, but books and DVDs are not going to suffer for languishing in a warehouse over the weekend.

I need a nap. Or less house anxiety. Or both. Preferably both. Things are chugging along and at the moment, barring unexpected Something Awfuls lurking, it looks like this might all be over quicker than anyone thought. Location's good, price is at least right if not very right if they accept our first offer, size is phe-fucking-nominal, and there is garden space. Really, there's garden space in all the candidates, but this one has a location within walking distance of the market street with the bakery of nom and a couple local grocery stores, the Guitar Mama's pretty close... etc. Plus it's Old Hotness. Next Friday someone remind me or, well, most likely no one will have to remind me because I'll be bouncing off the walls, but next Friday if all goes well I will speak to you further of Old Hotness. And how absolutely hot it is.

And, really, it would also be nice if this does pan out so we can do the damn moving thing sooner rather than later and I can get on with my life. It sounds a bit warped but I really, really am getting antsy. I want to start costuming for Dragon*Con. I want to get some sleep. With luck, we'll be making an offer next week, and after that I have no idea off the top of my head what the timeline is, or even the specifics of the procedure beyond counteroffer/accept/reject. Hopefully one of the first two. Hopefully that middle one. Need to go back and look at my post of Syn's Awesome Infodumping. I may be taking shameless advantage of actually living here (the bank that owns it does not) and having done a bit of research on it. Also being willing to say scratches in the paint/wallpaper? Two and a half bricks falling out of the front stoop? Cosmetic shutters falling off? THAT'S FIXABLE. That probably helps. Right, that's enough thinking about the house right now.

So tired. So ready for work or anything to calm down now so I can get some sleep. Only there's more looking at houses this weekend just in case, and Arabic and hopefully not a game this weekend, but you never know. We did manage to trade out the rice with golf ball sized mold balls in it without a hitch, for other rice. The lady at the desk actually wasn't surprised and was going to show it to her co-business-owner and point out that maybe now they should stop putting wet stuff all over their rice and maybe they should scrap that whole pallet. Her tone amused me. I've used that tone before. Anyway, she was apologetic and kept our mold-golf-ball-filled rice to show him. And we got new rice.

Right. Home, guitar, food possibly maybe or maybe just sleep, comma, all of the. And I have to check in and then try and get at least some writing done, and triage the rest of my writing for at least the next week or so. Because this is going to eat my brain to bits.
kittydesade: (play your fingers to the bone)
German )

日本語 )

Gaeilge )

FUCKING OW. GODDAMMIT, BODY.

Okay, that's not as bad as the all-caps make it sound, but it is really incredibly annoying to even get your teeth cleaned with giant aching cramps. I disapprove. On the plus side, today's lecture consisted mostly of "eh, brush a little harder, your gums are still a little pink." Which is way less of a lecture than I expected! Go go decent dental hygiene habits? Only decent, I swear, but apparently that's enough for now.

I made all the appointments yesterday. Seriously, all of them. And it looks like everyone can meet up the schedule but dear lord I am at the top of my juggling things to do tolerance. And then Anna pointed out that I haven't actually had a vacation since doing all the Yuletide ever, because straight after that we launched into house buying crap and now my head really is exploding. It is really getting to the point where I cannot take on another task, if I do, someone hit me. Hard. Once some of these things calm down I'll be able to do something else but not right now! An organization list will shortly follow.

I will also say, throughout this, my friends and my boyfriend have been amazingly helpful with reminding me of things and doing their fair share of shared workloads. The past month has been a study in I get by with a little help from my friends.

Right now I just want to go home and curl up around my guitar for an hour or two. Fiddle with songs, maybe learn Money For Nothing, and do nothing more complicated than figuring out that that's a slide not a bend. Sadly, I have six more hours of work. At least the food for the week is pretty much pre-cooked and I got through my dentist appointment. And I got some sleep. Blessed, blessed sleep. I went to bed at 9, woke up at 2.30-3 for some reason thinking "Of course Emma's kiss didn't break the spell, Gold created the spell, it has to be Gold's True Love's Kiss that breaks it!" No, I don't know why that popped into my head when I was dreaming about planting things and pancakes. But the I went back to sleep maybe thirty minutes later and slept till 6. And that was damn good.

Right, making that list of things I need to do. Onward and upward! The only way out is through.
kittydesade: (morning ugh)
Deutsch )

There. Modly duties discharged for the nonce, updated posted in Juke Joint Jezebel, and some other stuff done. And now filing and emails and blah. I have also remembered to get quarters, and made an appointment with a mortgage counselor person with my Big Evil Bank and emailed the city inspector guy to ask about his help in finding an inspector. Like a motherfucking adult.

... I apologize in advance for anyone this might offend. But at the moment I am so, so sick of the GOP circus that is their primary run that this had me laughing to the point of tears. Vote Canada Party in 2012? It plays on so many stereotypes from both countries and I think I needed that tongue in cheek gentle lambasting. Oh yes.

Oogh. It's funny how this whole housebuying adventure is affecting my thinking. I'm not losing the big parts per se, but I'm losing the little bits. The whys and wherefores of things, little details, my ability to pay attention and analyze and cope on the smaller, more minute level. This is resulting in way more frazzle than I want. And yet I suppose the plus side to this is, if it were going any slower, I might still be this frazzled and it would take forever and a data figure to get my head on straight. The way it's going, it's slower than I want it to be but just fast enough that there's measurable progress and I'm not chewing my fingers off trying to distract myself.

.... at this point, though, I think I'd just as soon have the peace and quiet of mind. Or more sleep.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (angel punch)
Deutsch )

日本語 )

And then there wasn't any Russian because I never started it under the assumption that I'd be interrupted halfway through by a phone call for a phone interview for pre-approval for a loan, only fifteen minutes later the guy still hadn't called, so fuck that. Why the fuck is it so hard to get pre-approval for a loan these days? Or at least, why the fuck do banks move so goddamn slowly? We were supposed to have the pre-approval letter from Bank 1 by the end of the week last week. Grumble snarl. I want this freaking pre-approval letter so we can make the moves I want to make. Chew froth rage. Not that I'm being a bit neurotic or nervous about this or anything.

Right. I have other things to be neurotic about, though. I need to do a modly thing for Witches BigBang and do Spanish, and then I need to work on, hmm, today, let's see. Triumvirate faction sheet and fixing that outline, and then another Long Road chapter tonight. That's enough extra work to do today.

I did, in fact, start an Emma/adult!Stranger!Bae fic the other afternoon. Between checking crap in at work and handling other things that came up. We got a huge order of weaving yarn to fucking New Zealand that has even more complications you would not believe. I hardly believe it. Today, hopefully some more progress can go on that, and some more progress on other things, and guh. My brain is just so scattered right now. Not even routines-wise, my routines are in fairly good shape although I did swap dance video for other exercises this morning and that worked better. Which just goes to remind me that general workout works better as a starter than specific. But also just in terms of, the things I want to concentrate on are both too numerous and too emotionally involved for me to be able to sift through them and pull the right one up at the right time. Meh. This irritates me.

Well. One thing at a time, really. Getting to work first, and then doing one thing at a time, and so on. And not being pissy because I ended up not doing Russian because someone at Quicken is a fuckmuppet.

Oh, hey, something else I did think of. If you read a story in progress, and you're all "Okay, this is well written, but I just can't buy the basic premise"... why would you then bookmark it presumably for later reading? I was irritated for about a minutes or two, now I'm just bemused. Well, if they don't find it plausible, they can either read or not read, as they like it, I'm damn well not going to rewrite 10k of story just because one person finds it implausible. I just. Bzuh?

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (this old house)
Deutsch )

Okay, one thing I can do to avert some of these jitters is... not so much to plan the hell out of this as to go back and do some more educating myself on the whole thing. So. Reading over the sample offer to purchase and contract that the realtor copied and gave to us, taking copious notes all over the place. (Definitely a sample, all the fields are marked with N/A and it's got "copy" scrawled all over it.) Look over all the inspection reports all my lovely friends have sent me for an idea of what I'm looking at/for. Research historical home owning in this state until I find myself dwelling or clinging too much, and then putting that down and doing something entirely else. Like languages or self-pub. I can do this. I promise.

Work, on the other hand, was singularly unhelpful in providing me anything else to focus on for the whole goddamn day. I swear, I need to start learning how to knit afghan squares or something. Or tomorrow, I go out and spin. Then again, I need to learn how to knit afghan squares anyway to start my hope chest. Ooh, maybe I'll do that one over there.

What is it with, the more time I have to do things, the less I want to? Or something, maybe I just didn't get enough sleep last night. Maybe I really am too jittery. Or tired. Or both at once. Probably both at once. I did, at least, get some things done. Just not as much as I had time/leisure to do. Maybe tomorrow if I still haven't gotten any of this done by the time UPS goes I really will try spinning to clear my head. I've gone right around the corner of jittery and hyper to exhausted and zombified. I actually think I prefer this. It might do to keep the disappointment down later.
kittydesade: (not all of wisdom brings joy)
Gaeilge )

... Why is house buying so stressful? Why? No details on the "I don't want to jinx" this thing, also by way of keeping me from dwelling on the current thing more than I am already, which I am trying hard not to do. The next step is to get an inspector out there while I bang on people's heads to get them to cough up details about the work they're already doing. There, is that cryptic enough for you? And then I get to decide if this is out of my price range or just at the upper edge of do-able. Meanwhile the boy gets to pick the next three houses to see, since I picked the first three. This, in retrospect, was a BAD IDEA. So bad.

No, seriously, I am not allowed to make big responsible adult decisions anymore. I want all the shiny and there are stars in my eyes and dreams in my head. But I have not put my signature on anything nor committed a dime just yet, nor will I, except the required dimes to assess the situation more deeply and properly. Because I am a responsible adult even though I REALLY REALLY WANT THE SHINY.

Oof. Other things. Once Upon a Time has stolen my playbook and I freaking want it back. Right down to the Glaucon option. Admittedly he makes a very wee Glaucon, but that's what he freaking did. I will say, though, it is by far not the worst display of Sorcery I've seen. I will reserve that for throttling Sherlock bloody Holmes and Gatiss for stealing my angst angst brood on a high place thing. That wasn't even the original plot point, that was Sherlock goes and broods on a high place to think because that's what Sorcerers do. Rarr. And on the other hand this means all the Sorcery I have left is Nate's semi-competent flailing, tonight. I can live with that.

Right. I'm going to go off, do my work, try not to have house flail, and talk to the Architect about inspectors and things. And email back the realtor lady and thank her and see if she has answers to those questions we had.

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