Hello other grown ups. I'm here!

I just bought my first freaking house. Well, that's not quite true, I'm under contract, and a billion things could still happen between now and closing at the end of October.

I'm still wigging out a little. Today was a mess. I got the counter-offer from the bank around 1pm...except it wasn't a counteroffer, so much as it was "We reject your counteroffer, but reopen our last offer." Actually, that was exactly the price point I wanted to buy the house at, it was just not as much as I wanted in seller's closing fees, but the bank has some kind of policy about not offering more than 3%. At the same time, a second offer was placed on the house this morning, so no more dilly-dallying -- time to act. I decided I would have to bite the bullet and come to closing with some dough. I've got a little bit saved, the only real issue is that -- remember -- this is a fixer-upper; I'm going to need every penny I have to get it liveable.

I still have some options for mortgages, one includes an awesome, but iffy-if-I-qualify, construction loan, that would give me ten to twenty thousand right away to gut that bitch in a month or two. If I can get it, I won't have to do anything between now and closing, and it won't have to pass inspection. But if I go with a standard mortgage, I'll have a list of things to check off to make it "habitable" and qualify for that kind of loan. Windows, floors, kitchen appliances. Lots of $$ out of pocket. I'm definitely at the base of a limb and need to make sure I don't walk too far out, but all investments are a risk, and I think this is a good risk.

Other things to do:
1) Buy a bike! My commute is going to increase about a mile; too far to walk.
2) Get wireless in the new house ASAP so, ahem, certain freelance bloggers can housesit while construction workers tear the place apart.
3) Go on a pb&j only diet, stop drinking, and stop buying ANYTHING AT ALL that's not house related.
4) Plan a housecooling party for the ol' apartment? Doesn't work with with #3.

Well whatever. WOO!

house update

I know it's been awhile since I've written about the house. It's some pretty hardcore nonsense over here. We are officially in negotiations, and we may even be to the point were this time tomorrow I could be in contract (whoa), but the ridiculousness that has preceded this point has pretty much worn me out. About two weeks ago, when we thought we were never going to hear back form the bank, my realtor took me out to see more houses. Talk about depressing; I couldn't even think about it. If this falls through, me and these house-buying business are going to have a trial separation.

If explaining all the crazy types of mortgages I've been written through weren't boring as hell, I could fell blog pages with it. But! There will be updates tomorrow. There might be some frantic stove-buying on craigslist in my near future.

Update: Oh! And if I get the house -- my first home improvement project? Hell yes!

megloheroical

Okay, Peter, I can believe that you somehow showed up after your nuclear exploding episode with pants on. You must have been somewhere first in order for to get chained up in that shipping container, so sure, they gave you some pants (and no shirt, thanks!). Or at least, we all grew up with the FCC, so we can suspend belief long enough to ignore the fact your pants magically appeared during your freefall from space.

But I don't -- I do not believe that your Capital One Mastercard survived the fiery explosion. Okay? Okay. Someone better explain that you left them all on your dresser the day you went to fight Sylar.

TTtC: Fountain of Knowledge? Or Just Another Blog Sinkhole of Useless Facts?

Via my sitemeter, I just found this advice column that links to me and my struggles waiving into the DC bar. Crazy.

What the hell was that, Laura Bush?

Seriously, you call that a book fair? My 5th grade cafeteria held a better book fair than that. I expected the tents, all divided by genre, to be a fantastic walk-through of kiosks filled to the brim with books Books BOOKS and talented and interesting authors glad-handing eager readers while we ask stupid questions like, "What's your inspiration??" But no. The tents were just rows of chairs for the speakers. We got there just as Charles Simic, the next American Poet Laureate began to speak, and left after some ludicrous poem about a fork.

After grabbing our free totes, we wandered around, figuring we could at least buy some shit or get some free schwag, right? Hell no. All the free shit was for the kids (including an entire pavilion made for kids to go around to each "state" kiosk and locate it on a map, wherein they'd get a stamp), and all the books were hardcover at full price (you'd only buy one for a signing), and worst of all, the line literally wrapped around the building after weaving in and out of a disneyland turnstile that filled up half the tent. There was a guy who's sole job was to stand at the end of the line and hold up a sign that said, "End of Line Here."

So we got out of there and tried to at least get a peek of Sanjay or Iron Chef Cora, but we finally just left and sat outside and got drunk instead. Stupid First Lady.

On the way to get beer we ran into the finish line of the Nation's Triathlon. Ew.

Crafty Bastards went much better. For some reason I wasn't in the mood to take pictures....probably because I was in the mood to shop, and came home with some awesome loot. Though seriously, I wonder if the rest of the planet felt the gravitational pull of all the world's supply of ironic t-shirts sitting in one block of Adams Morgan.