And It’s Only Been Twenty-Seven Years

Today I was meandering around Facebook and spent some time looking at the page of the guy I went to my Senior Ball with. We’re not Facebook friends; in fact we last spoke when we ran into each other at the grocery store in 1990. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: I just graduated from Mills.

Him: Did you participate in the demonstration to keep it from becoming co-ed?

Me: Yeah!

Him: That’s unfortunate.

So that was the end of that. But today I just flicked through his pictures, which are all public, and his profile, ditto. He works in government at the opposite end of the political spectrum from me, which does not at all surprise me (although I think back to high school when we joked he’d be President and I’d be First Lady — oh Lord no for so many reasons). He has the same wry/dry/pedantic-yet-self-mocking sense of humor and way of writing, and he looks pretty darn much the same as he did when I last saw him at 23.

And you know,  I can’t say this about a lot of my adolescence, but we had a blast at the Senior Ball. I do hope if he’s ever sitting around reminiscing with friends, if the topic of “did you go to the prom?” comes up, he remembers it that way too. Even if he has to follow it up with, “And then she became a feminist!”

I also suddenly remembered the day we graduated, which was the day before my 18th birthday. I was at a party at his house at midnight and he made everyone stop and sing happy birthday to me — one of the few times in my life I’ve ever graciously accepted that song.

So while he may be something of an odd duck, and certainly 180º from me politically (and has apparently gotten religion in the intervening decades, though interestingly it seems to be Catholicism, which I’d not have guessed, especially for such an Anglophile) — it was kind of a nice thing, to see him now and remember then.

Of course then I left the house and went to our mutual hometown for groceries, which was dismal — I totally forgot about Thanksgiving coming up! It was also a little odd to be immediately back home after my walk down memory lane, and then it turned out the only store where I could both park/find stuff I wanted was one I never go to — but the one where that last conversation happened.

But I’m glad I had a fab time that night in June twenty-seven years ago. Everyone needs at least one good memory from high school!

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The Brain That Ate My House…Er, No, Wait.

This month has been a crazy whirlwind for me. I can’t believe in the space of a week I went from “oh, meeting with the realtor on Sunday” to “I just had an offer accepted.”

Everything thus far has gone fine — which means I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. 🙂 But I got a great interest rate, the inspections went fine (just little things; the inspector even said to my realtor, “This is a really nice property!”), the loan got its final approval, all is well. I just got the settlement statement in my email this morning (thank you, Saturday-working mortgage bankers!), and it should close by November 30.

…thus cuing a whirlwind of painters, cleaners, and carpet steamers (all set up), and then moving on December 29.

I have this weird thing about wanting everything to be DONE by the time I unpack my stuff there, even though I know it’s not a reasonable goal, especially since I’m just one person. My sisters will help, and I’m not doing my own packing, but it’s a little easier when there’s a co-inhabitant who is just as invested as you are in restoring order, and who also is there all the time. It’d be nice to wake up on December 30 to someone to putter around with me, getting stuff sorted. But on the other hand, there is great joy in doing things as I want them to do be done. It’s selfish, I know — “I can have everything the way I want! I don’t have to take anyone else into consideration!” — but since that’s how things are, I might as well enjoy it, no? I’m the only one paying the mortgage.

…which is considerably less than my rent, and only  a little more than my previous rent-controlled, lived-in-since-1998 place. Adding in the monthly payments for property tax and homeowner’s insurance makes it a bit more than my current rent, but I don’t figure in my renter’s insurance to my rent. If I were to, then I’m only paying $100 more a month in order to have three bedrooms, three baths, a big new kitchen, a dining room, a two-car garage and a pantry.

A real pantry! My ex-husband used to laugh (not evilly) at me because I commandeered the linen closet in the old place as a pantry. Now I have a real one, and it will be this color. Or possibly this one. Since it gets no natural light I don’t want to go too dark, but I want it to be green green green. (The rest of the house is more neutral, except for the two berry walls, which I like and am leaving.)

However, it is probably all moot because I will never get out of this:

This was the clincher on this house.