I am very particular about my hair. So, it was with some trepidation that I moved down to Washington, knowing that I would have to leave behind my amazing stylist, whom it took forever to find, and who was quite reasonably priced to boot (as much as I'm particular, I'm also thrifty, which will win out every time).
The Washington salon scene is really out of control. Even ridiculously bad haircuts cost way too much, and you can't even afford a serious hair cut at a place that doesn't smell like it also cuts dog hair during the slow times. And, some places don't let you add the tip to your credit card. They only accept cash tips. Hey, I'm sorry you have to report your tip to the IRS. I can make your life easier by not tipping at all.
So, after a number of disappointments, I decided to take some drastic action: I ordered a nice set of clippers for about the cost of two haircuts, and decided to take matters into my own hands.
Or, actually, Michael's hands. Because, let's be honest: no one can cut their own hair.
So, we gave it a shot. Trepidacious at first, as the locks flew, we became emboldened. And, the result was quite satisfying. For the past several months, we've been cutting each other's hair and it's been going alright.
But, two weeks ago, I attempted what no one should dare: I was impatient, and tried to do it myself. With my head down, things seemed to be going pretty well. The hair was coming off, I felt the customary abandon and liberty that comes with doing things for yourself, like fixing a leaking faucet or figuring out how to rewire a light socket: I was not helpless! I was empowered to control my own destiny!
Then, I looked in the mirror: The hair of Matt Lauer, in his cancer patient 'do, was sitting on top of my head! I had ranked on my scalp too hard, and sliced down my poor follicles to stubble. It was a wasteland from the eyes on up.
Well, on half my head anyway. I tried to experiment with styling, combing, product, but in the end, I had to cut it all off. Then, I mourned the loss of my sightly coiffure. I prefer to think of my new 'do as more Justin Timberlake-esque . However, I'm happy to report that I lack the odd hairline that Justin exhibits here. Or the disgusting veins apparent here. Please notice how his old haircut was strikingly similar to my old haircut. However, we can all be grateful that my hair never looked like this.
I remain at the fashion vangard. Albeit, sometimes unwittingly.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
Homeless No More
Sorry for the lack of recent postings. Hopefully you'll just me just a bit of slack, as I have done more in the past two weeks than in all of 2004. I felt like my 2004 Christmas year-in-review was a bit boring, but rest assured that I will be back in form for this year's letter, what with all of these life-changing events on the heels of one another.
The bad news, since the last posting, is that the sellers of that third floor condo in the Palazzo decided not to sell after all. Something about one of the owners possibly losing their job, then not being able to qualify for a new mortgage. I was really sad for the rest of the week. I had mentally started decorating, thinking about placement of our random assortment of furniture, and actually looking at home design websites for paint colors. I knew that I shouldn't be doing it: you just can't count your chickens, can you? But, I couldn't stop myself. I felt like everything was going our way, all the pieces were falling into place, and that we were just destined to have that place. Alas.
The following weekend, there was absolutely nothing for us to look at. Seriously, there was not one single residence in our area, in our price range, that was two bedrooms. Even the terrible place with fluorescent green walls and a random extra hallway leading to a bathroom with no ventilation on the ground floor had sold. I was really disheartened, and started thinking that maybe we'd have to move out of our neighborhood or something drastic.
On Monday morning, our realtor Warren sent me one lonely new listing for a place that was too expensive, too small and too far away. How depressing.
At about 10:30 that morning, I took a little break from the computer, and glanced at the listings. Much to my surprise, there was a new listing! In the Palazzo - the same building that we had put the offer in on the other place! And it was the same size unit! And it was cheaper! And it was on the top floor!
My heart was thumping in my chest. For about 15 seconds, I circled my mouse across the screen as I tried to get myself to think and act. Then, I sprang into action. I called the realtor, who pulled up the listing, and agreed that it was perfect. He had a closing after work, so that was no good. I said that it had to be lunch time then, because we had to put in an offer today before something happened to it. Warren said he would see us there, and would bring all the paperwork with him. I hung up with him, called Michael and told him the situation. Said goodbye, and all of us scrambled to get over to the building to see the place, and sign the offer.
We convened, traipsed through the house for all of 90 seconds, hastily signed the paperwork, and dashed back to our regular lives. Then, throughout the rest of the work day, little dribs and drabs of information kept coming back to me:
1:00 pm: We are the first offer
3:30 pm: There is another offer, so we will have to submit the escalation clause.
4:15 pm: They will review all the offers they have tonight and make a decision.
I had a lecture at The Kennedy Center at 6:30, the same time that they were slated to review the contracts. The Concert Hall has no cell phone reception, so as soon as the lecture ended, my phone started whirring, flashing, and beeping, telling me that I had voicemails and text messages from Michael and Warren. Then I had to get on the elevator...no service again. Finally, I got Michael on the phone. "What's going on?" I asked breathlessly. Michael replied, "I think I just bought us a house."
We had the highest escalation clause, but another seller agreed to waive the appraisal, which we couldn't do because we needed the financing. The sellers called back and said that if we'd kick in a few thousand extra, they would let us have our appraisal. Michael kept his cool well, even if he was freaking on the inside, and made the call: we would beat their offer.
Michael had to scramble into the city to collect me from the lecture, and we dashed back to Warren's house, where he was getting the revised paperwork faxed to him. Over very stiff drinks, we signed our lives away for our first home together. It was a hell of a day.
Since then, we have been working double time to get everything in order for the impending move: T-minus six weeks. That means painting, cleaning and doing some small repairs on my apartment so it can be rented out on April 1. Fortunately, that was the main priority this weekend, and the space is all ready to go. Next, starting to pack our things so they can be moved to the new building, cleaning and prepping Michael's house for rental, finding tenants for his house, finalizing the mortgage paperwork, closing, prepping, cleaning and maybe even painting the new house.
Plus, I signed up for summer school. Just to keep things interesting.
The bad news, since the last posting, is that the sellers of that third floor condo in the Palazzo decided not to sell after all. Something about one of the owners possibly losing their job, then not being able to qualify for a new mortgage. I was really sad for the rest of the week. I had mentally started decorating, thinking about placement of our random assortment of furniture, and actually looking at home design websites for paint colors. I knew that I shouldn't be doing it: you just can't count your chickens, can you? But, I couldn't stop myself. I felt like everything was going our way, all the pieces were falling into place, and that we were just destined to have that place. Alas.
The following weekend, there was absolutely nothing for us to look at. Seriously, there was not one single residence in our area, in our price range, that was two bedrooms. Even the terrible place with fluorescent green walls and a random extra hallway leading to a bathroom with no ventilation on the ground floor had sold. I was really disheartened, and started thinking that maybe we'd have to move out of our neighborhood or something drastic.
On Monday morning, our realtor Warren sent me one lonely new listing for a place that was too expensive, too small and too far away. How depressing.
At about 10:30 that morning, I took a little break from the computer, and glanced at the listings. Much to my surprise, there was a new listing! In the Palazzo - the same building that we had put the offer in on the other place! And it was the same size unit! And it was cheaper! And it was on the top floor!
My heart was thumping in my chest. For about 15 seconds, I circled my mouse across the screen as I tried to get myself to think and act. Then, I sprang into action. I called the realtor, who pulled up the listing, and agreed that it was perfect. He had a closing after work, so that was no good. I said that it had to be lunch time then, because we had to put in an offer today before something happened to it. Warren said he would see us there, and would bring all the paperwork with him. I hung up with him, called Michael and told him the situation. Said goodbye, and all of us scrambled to get over to the building to see the place, and sign the offer.
We convened, traipsed through the house for all of 90 seconds, hastily signed the paperwork, and dashed back to our regular lives. Then, throughout the rest of the work day, little dribs and drabs of information kept coming back to me:
1:00 pm: We are the first offer
3:30 pm: There is another offer, so we will have to submit the escalation clause.
4:15 pm: They will review all the offers they have tonight and make a decision.
I had a lecture at The Kennedy Center at 6:30, the same time that they were slated to review the contracts. The Concert Hall has no cell phone reception, so as soon as the lecture ended, my phone started whirring, flashing, and beeping, telling me that I had voicemails and text messages from Michael and Warren. Then I had to get on the elevator...no service again. Finally, I got Michael on the phone. "What's going on?" I asked breathlessly. Michael replied, "I think I just bought us a house."
We had the highest escalation clause, but another seller agreed to waive the appraisal, which we couldn't do because we needed the financing. The sellers called back and said that if we'd kick in a few thousand extra, they would let us have our appraisal. Michael kept his cool well, even if he was freaking on the inside, and made the call: we would beat their offer.
Michael had to scramble into the city to collect me from the lecture, and we dashed back to Warren's house, where he was getting the revised paperwork faxed to him. Over very stiff drinks, we signed our lives away for our first home together. It was a hell of a day.
Since then, we have been working double time to get everything in order for the impending move: T-minus six weeks. That means painting, cleaning and doing some small repairs on my apartment so it can be rented out on April 1. Fortunately, that was the main priority this weekend, and the space is all ready to go. Next, starting to pack our things so they can be moved to the new building, cleaning and prepping Michael's house for rental, finding tenants for his house, finalizing the mortgage paperwork, closing, prepping, cleaning and maybe even painting the new house.
Plus, I signed up for summer school. Just to keep things interesting.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Perhaps I Am Too Busy, the Posting in Which Michael is Very Patient With Me
My life has been crazy, as Michael and I just put an offer in on a new condo last night (among the myriad of other activities in 2005...more later)...the realtor was running late, and a bunch of people were traipsing in and out of the house buying things that we had posted on craigslist. When we finished signing the paperwork for the offer, I realized I lost the cashier's check for $5,000 (!!!!!) that was supposed to be the deposit (and which I just brought home scant hours earlier), and we spent a glorious evening tearing apart my house, which was already in a total state of disarray. We talked through all the suddenly-sketchy faces we had seen that evening...why did the woman buying my bed give me a hug before she left? Was it to give me a pat down and swipe the check?!
We also had dinner plans with Dennis, a friend and former colleague from Jacob's Pillow, for which we were ridiculously late, and had to call to keep postponing. It was probably not the most enjoyable dinner for Dennis, who had by this time been driving for eight hours from Massachusetts. Every five minutes the conversation steered back to how I was such an idiot and now we are completely broke because I lost this check. Thankfully, he was very gracious and sipped away at his martini while we blathered on.
Due to certain distractions (e.g. NOW WE ARE BROKE, THANKS A LOT, JAMIE), Michael was not very impressed with the restaurant, which we were trying for the first time. I said his judgement just might be a bit compromised because he was distracted and woeing our existence, and wondering if he had made a big mistake by agreeing to marry me, the numbskull who loses or has stolen huge sums of money in my own house. However, alter on in the evening, after some digestion, I wonder if he wasn't right...'nuff said.
We went home with trepidation, preparing ourselves for a night of painstakingly slow and methodical searching through random piles and boxes for the missing check. I said a quick prayer, asking that God would let us find the check easily, and thanking Him for bringing this opportunity into our lives to put an offer on this house. I asked Him to let me know if moving in together, and starting our lives together was really a good idea. I asked Him if this was a reminder that things will not always go smoothly, there will be terrible things that happen to us, but was this a reminder that we will get through things together with each other and with Him? I really hoped so...
The first place I wanted to check when we got home was the recycling. I wanted to get the kitchen out of the way, and there really weren't many papers in the bag. Lo and behold, there was the check! Ensconsed in the bank envelope, perfectly fine, and sitting at the bottom of the bag. I had recycled our check! The Lord works in mysterious ways. This morning Michael is dropping it off (we made a rule that I could no longer come in contact with the check), and we are both thankful that I don't have a shredder.
We also had dinner plans with Dennis, a friend and former colleague from Jacob's Pillow, for which we were ridiculously late, and had to call to keep postponing. It was probably not the most enjoyable dinner for Dennis, who had by this time been driving for eight hours from Massachusetts. Every five minutes the conversation steered back to how I was such an idiot and now we are completely broke because I lost this check. Thankfully, he was very gracious and sipped away at his martini while we blathered on.
Due to certain distractions (e.g. NOW WE ARE BROKE, THANKS A LOT, JAMIE), Michael was not very impressed with the restaurant, which we were trying for the first time. I said his judgement just might be a bit compromised because he was distracted and woeing our existence, and wondering if he had made a big mistake by agreeing to marry me, the numbskull who loses or has stolen huge sums of money in my own house. However, alter on in the evening, after some digestion, I wonder if he wasn't right...'nuff said.
We went home with trepidation, preparing ourselves for a night of painstakingly slow and methodical searching through random piles and boxes for the missing check. I said a quick prayer, asking that God would let us find the check easily, and thanking Him for bringing this opportunity into our lives to put an offer on this house. I asked Him to let me know if moving in together, and starting our lives together was really a good idea. I asked Him if this was a reminder that things will not always go smoothly, there will be terrible things that happen to us, but was this a reminder that we will get through things together with each other and with Him? I really hoped so...
The first place I wanted to check when we got home was the recycling. I wanted to get the kitchen out of the way, and there really weren't many papers in the bag. Lo and behold, there was the check! Ensconsed in the bank envelope, perfectly fine, and sitting at the bottom of the bag. I had recycled our check! The Lord works in mysterious ways. This morning Michael is dropping it off (we made a rule that I could no longer come in contact with the check), and we are both thankful that I don't have a shredder.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)