Moral Questioner

This morning, while I was miserably trying to run my little two mile day-kicker-offer - which was a big suck today, and I can't tell you why, honestly, I just felt like crap, with legs made of lead, and you know what, that is FINE, I did it anyway - I encountered a moral dilemma.

Running down the road, I happened to glance down and notice a ten dollar bill in the street.

It was assuredly not mine.  I could use it, though.

Thoughts of Starbucks went through my head.

It's only $10.  Not $100.

What would you have done?

In retrospect, I kind of wish I had left it exactly where it was, on the street.  I think it probably belonged to a school-age kid who was on their way to school.  Probably some poor kid's lunch money for the week.

If I had left it in the street, maybe they would have seen it after school, retrieved their money.

Maybe I could have saved a kid from an ass-kicking.  Maybe saved a single mom from stressing out over lunch money.

By the time I really registered what I had encountered, the bill was in my hand, and I was moving forward (though not quickly, I assure you.)

I put it in the next mailbox.

What would you have done?

Sarie Has a Dream House!

If I were to describe to you my dream house, this would not be it.  I'm not going to lie, I'm sitting here, right now, sighing as I look at my rental's fireplace, remembering how it would smell up the whole house with smoke and drive both children out of the family room...  oh, good times.

But in the end, my dream house actually would cost me, like, a half million dollars.  And I don't have that much money, and nobody is fool enough to lend me that much money, and I wouldn't be able to pay them back, anyway.  So what we have here is me, avoiding foreclosure.  Well in advance.

Barbie never had Chet the Repo Man, did she?  She so should have.  Although we all know that Day Barbie earned supplemental income from Night Barbie, if you get my drift.  Which is to say, Barbie was a whore.  I think I digress.

Here's the thing:  Dreams are stupid.  Reality fucking rocks.  My reality is that the house is mine, officially.  When I broke into it this evening, it was fine, because I was breaking into MY OWN HOUSE.  

Here are some pictures.  

This is Caleb's room:

Yeah, I have a shelf thingee all up in the corner in here, what-WHAT? 

Hall bathroom:

Floors are pretty.  Subway tile backsplash suits me fine, although it looks pretty nassssty.  The sink rocks, though.  And this room has a secret...

Behind the bathroom door, you find:

Oh my god, you guys, seriously.  This is my favorite thing in the whole house.  A built-in, in the bathroom, and see that panel?  You know what that is? A FUCKING BUILT-IN LAUNDRY HAMPER IS WHAT THAT IS.  Jealous?  YOU SHOULD BE.  IT'S AMAZING.

This here is my master bedroom.  Please note, the carpets are all being removed.  Tomorrow.  Not kidding, tomorrow.  Seriously.  Because they are horrifying.  My real estate agent looked into this room and said, "oh, here's where they did the murder."  I'm going to miss him:

Vanity in my bedroom, vanity in my bedroom, vanity in my bedroom!!!

You know who looks awesome in this room?  Or who would, if their seven year old kid was a wizard with an iphone camera?  Me.  That's who.  Whom.  Dammit, I can't even be cool without using correct grammar.

Booyah.

Sometimes, you look at something, and go, now why...  for example... why would someone put trim on the outside of a bathtub.  Yep.  My bathtub looks like a dining room wall.  The bottom half of a dining room wall.  On the other hand, that there's jets in that there tub!  God only knows if they work, but we gonna have a fine time finding out.  See the potty?  I can rest my wine glass on that.  Lord, I think I just overshared...

What you can't tell is that there is a small vanity light over a completely blank space between the toilet and the door, so over nothing, along with an arm-level plug.  Obvs, there used to be a "his" sink in this part of the bathroom, which is no longer there.  What WILL be in that space is either a cupboardy thingee or a big ol' basket o' towels.

What up, walk-in closet.  Not like the rental's "walk-ins," where you kind of have to shimmy in sideways to get to the back parts.  This one has rails on both sides, and guesswhatguesswhatguesswhat??!!

Shelving unit in the closet!  For my...  shelfy things.

This is a pretty room, and it has been decided that it will be the guest room.  The primary reason for this decision is that the window opens onto the screened-in-porch (hereafter known as "la hacienda"), and I figure, if I put the baby in there, I'll be out there knitting drinking wine and talking on the phone to my mom hosting posh fiestas with my loco friends, and we will be appropriately noisy (note:  I've already begun operation-friend-the-neighbor-chick), so I don't want to keep El Nino awake.  Also, I don't want this to be the playroom, because I don't want to hear all the kids making so much god damn noise.  Also, when my friends come visit, I expect them to be drinking on La Hacienda with me!

Your room is pretty close to ready for you to come visit.  Make it so!

Here we have the playroom.  "What the fuck is on the window," you asked?  It's a weird screen with bars built in.  I DO NOT KNOW WHY.  Bitch is coming down.  That's on the "short list."  This room is tiny but it will be awesome for playing Skylanders and acting out plays with finger puppets.  That's what he do, yo.

Or, we could leave the bars on, and make it hard for him to sneak out when he is a teenager!

On  to the family room.

 Note the door to La Hacienda out the back.  Also note, this light fixture is on the short list, too.  Also note, no fireplace (frowny face).  Also note, Vanna is doing a kick-ass job of selling this house!

I get to buy a rug!! YES INDEED.

La Hacienda!  Hola!  Ole!  Tengo Dos Ijos...

At first, I was like, gotta paint that green thing.  Now I'm like, gotta paint the concrete floor so it matches that green thing.  This is going to be the coolest porch ever- all Dia De La Muerta and shit.  

Vanna is just modeling La Hacienda for you:

Hola!

We have a little strip of back yard.  Right now, it's growing holly as ground cover.  I had no idea that was even an option.  There are also some weird, semi-scary fluffy plant thingees at the base of that tree that may or may not rise from the ground and attack after dark.  Too much Zelda?  Maybe yes.

We don't need a back yard, because I'm a kid who never goes outside!

This is the eating place.  The house has a formal room that can't decide if it wants to be a living room or a dining room, so we are going to call it a living room, so we can stop hearing it bitch and whine.  That leaves this space for the food consumption, a breakfast room that is remarkably like ours in the rental, only with real tile and no linoleum, and fewer dead spiders.  SO FAR.

It's not a boob light!  It's got leaves, but no birds.  WE ARE SATISFIED.

Our kitchen is sucky.  BUT, those holes will be filled with Brand New Appliances, and there is a tile backsplash (GETTING FANCY ALL IN HERE), and the sink is awesome, and the faucet is awesome, and who really gives a shit, anyway, because it's not like I cook, nearly ever.

He looks like a tap dancer.  Also, the cabinets are those french white stained things that are so trendy on HGTV right now, so obvs, I'm moving to Canada, only I'm NOT because it's fucking COLD in Canada.

100% of this picture was to brag to Janie that I get a pantry.  Note, it's pretty nasty, with the old floor, some reddish death dirt, and crappy shelving, but my dad is good at cutting boards to shapes, and I will buy a SECOND rug, if that's what it takes.  It's a pantry.  I am content.

Note to self:  Kitchen gets late afternoon sunlight.

So.  Funny thing about the doors.  First, note the pretty floors.  Try and pretend there isn't an attractive boob right above your head, and notice the doors.  The big door is leaded glass, and I LOVE IT with a big squee girly kind of "can we be best friends and I'll braid your hair" kind of love.  LOVE.  The other door looks awful, it's a storm door, and I don't live in Canada (see above), so this is probably unnecessary, so there's about a 70% chance I will take it down, but...  it's so freaking cool.  It's kitchy, it's orange plastic, and I know, I know, your mamaw had one just like it in 1979, but dang...  It's mod, you know?  I just can't decide...

All in all, though, a nice, welcoming entry way.  Which also seems to get late afternoon sun.  Weird.

This is the formal living room (DECLARED SO AS OF RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE.)  See that cut-out area, back behind Susanna Hoff?  (by the way, if you get that, I just love you so much I want to make out with you right now) Should I put a couch there, or make my dad build me built-ins.  Seriously, what do you think?  The door to your left (Susanna's right) leads to the kitchen, so I just have visions of having fancy grown-ups come over for coffee, and although we will likely sit in La Hacienda, it's possible that we might need fancy time, and this will be the fancy time room.  With coffee.  So it's totally awesome that the kitchen is right there.  Which does sort of make me think Dining Room, but I have declared it, so...

Hey oh, way, oh, oh wayyyyyoh way oh...

With every house we looked at, I tried to find something special about it, in case we bought it.  Something that would make him ADORE this house above all others.  The first offer, he was devastated because he lost a retaining pond behind the back yard and cannot, now, catch tadpoles.  AS IF HE WAS GOING TO CATCH TADPOLES.  But not kidding, devastated.  This house, I sold him the tree.  "That's your climbing tree," I told him.  I bet, by February, he is all the way up to the crook at the top of this picture.  Lucky kid.  I was stuck climbing apple trees, he's got his own live oak.

My mother said that, when she was a kid, she would climb trees and drop acorns and pine cones down on the chickens in the yard, playing Bombs Over Tokyo.  There are so many things I could say about that statement.  

So that's pretty much it.  As I mentioned, I met the neighbor, Nicole, who I hope will come and have a drink on La Hacienda every now and again.  Come to think of it, there isn't a gate on that side of the house, dammit.  She is going to have to come around or come through the house.  That's all right... anyway, I met her, because her brother parked his truck in my driveway tonight, when I needed to unload Round One of the Great Move of 2014.  They were super cool about it, though, and she has a little dog that's, I don't know, a Shih Tsu or something, and it's name is Gismo or Gonzo or something, and that's fine.  It's going to be weird to live directly next door to someone who is younger than 70 and doesn't (so it seems) beat his wife.  I hope we become friends.  On the other side, those people appear (see above) to have a boat, so they are nice people.  Boat people are nice people.

I'm ready to get the moving on the road.

Ready to have a drink on La Hacienda!

Secret Shopper

Confession:  I've never been a good shopper.

I don't like to shop.  I know, that lessens the girliness of me, but it's true.  Shopping sucks it.

Especially the kind of shopping that requires you to thumb through racks and racks of clothes, in hopes that there is ONE GOD DAMN SIZE SIX PAIR OF PANTS or the like.

I don't care for shopping.

I recognize that this makes me a bit unusual, for a girl.

But then... BUT THEN, somebody introduced me to the power of online shopping.  And there really isn't one person I can blame for this, but holy crap do I wish there was because I CAN'T STOP.

In the last week, I've bought:

1. Four songs---  please note, this is iTunes shopping, and it's often under the influence of wine, because how else do you explain why I now own "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden.  Shut up.  I like it.  This also explains the entire two albums of Wilson Phillips I purchased while in Georgia.  I'm not really very proud of myself.  Please let me keep my cool card for five more minutes.
2. A bathing suit--- now, in my defense, my old bathing suit is beyond ratty, and old, and besides, I do have another one but it's way too big, and you know.  So there's a legitimate need, and besides all of that, have you ever tried to go pee in a "head" on a sailboat when you are wearing a one-piece?  No?  It sucks, that's what.  So I bought a tankini.  Top.  And a bottom.  And a bikini top, too, because, well, what the hell?  At my beach, in Mississippi, I am far and away the thinnest girl and lots of them wear bikinis.  And besides, I can.  So there.  Shut up.
3. So yes, technically, that's 1.5 bathing suits.
4. A dress---  now I haven't talked much about the cinco de hell-o gala party that we are having at my work, but it's happening, and I have very low expectations.  You see, in the town in which I live, we have three major Mexican restaurants, all of which whom will offer beer for a quarter and free appetisers, and bands and live music.  And yet, we are asking people to pay $75 a ticket?  Pshat.  This is going to be el disastoro.  However, I have no choice in the matter, and I have to not only go, but sort of "work" at this event, but it also means I will "drink" at this event, so it could be worse.  And anyway, so, I need a dress.  So I bought one.  It's black, and strapless.  WHO THE FUCK AM I?

 

5.  And so today, Doodlebug lamented that we can't find his bedroom slippers, and target.com had some on clearance with Optimus Prime, so I mean...  that was good enough reason for me to then buy...

6.  A sweater to wear with my dress.

I HAVE TO STOP THIS.

But it's so, so fun.  I'm swearing it.

In other news, the First Lady of our town died, and my boss is fighting with the other old biddies of the town for who can be Most Important Mourner (MIM).  I love this a whole lot.  Not the loss of the Queen, I mean, I kind of wasn't crazy about her but I didn't wish her any ill will, and Mayor McCheese is a pretty good dude, so that's a shame, but still... what's funner than old lady cat fights?  NOTHING.