(no subject)

So, it turns out that I suck at househunting. No matter how much Light assures me that I'm not being graded on my answer, I am absolutely and completely convinced I am going to choose the wrong house, for the wrong reasons, and we won't be happy there.

And I know that if Light and the cats are there, if I can cook in it, if it has windows and hardwood floors, if Light can commute from it, and people can come visit, I will probably figure out how to be happy there. And though a house might make it easier to figure out to be happy, it's not going to be the thing to make me happy. But I'm still convinced I'm doing it wrong, that there will be some irreparable flaw that I won't discover until after we've purchase it. So far, my favorite one, full of skylights and angles, is just a little bit too small, and we might not be able to cram enough of our books into it, and I can't tell why I'm okay with that, when all I've wanted for months is to be reunited with my stuff.

I scored a dollar copy of Grahn's Work of a Common Woman which totally made my day. I've gotten my driver's license replaced, debit cards should follow shortly, and it'll be just like I'm a real person with an identity and an accessible bank account. The house is a mess, because the weekend was all real-estate and driving, and I'm feeling daunted. But I've got House of the Dead 2 and 3 for the wii, some new resolve about some old problems, and my Media liked his desk-toy present. I did not get to take advantage of the free tickets to Cardenio, or to the Boston Babydolls show, but I keep promising myself that next time will be different, that it's okay I'm not doing all of the interesting things I want to do, as long as I'm not doing none of them and hopefully, next weekend, I get to go walk on a beach.

(no subject)

So, it turns out that I suck at househunting. No matter how much Light assures me that I'm not being graded on my answer, I am absolutely and completely convinced I am going to choose the wrong house, for the wrong reasons, and we won't be happy there.

And I know that if Light and the cats are there, if I can cook in it, if it has windows and hardwood floors, if Light can commute from it, and people can come visit, I will probably figure out how to be happy there. And though a house might make it easier to figure out to be happy, it's not going to be the thing to make me happy. But I'm still convinced I'm doing it wrong, that there will be some irreparable flaw that I won't discover until after we've purchase it. So far, my favorite one, full of skylights and angles, is just a little bit too small, and we might not be able to cram enough of our books into it, and I can't tell why I'm okay with that, when all I've wanted for months is to be reunited with my stuff.

I scored a dollar copy of Grahn's Work of a Common Woman which totally made my day. I've gotten my driver's license replaced, debit cards should follow shortly, and it'll be just like I'm a real person with an identity and an accessible bank account. The house is a mess, because the weekend was all real-estate and driving, and I'm feeling daunted. But I've got House of the Dead 2 and 3 for the wii, some new resolve about some old problems, and my Media liked his desk-toy present. I did not get to take advantage of the free tickets to Cardenio, or to the Boston Babydolls show, but I keep promising myself that next time will be different, that it's okay I'm not doing all of the interesting things I want to do, as long as I'm not doing none of them and hopefully, next weekend, I get to go walk on a beach.