...is that they only last a moment.
A little while ago I noticed that there was something odd but couldn't quite figure out what.
Then the shocking realization came to me: it was quiet.
No one was talking about WoW, or which version of Linux is best, or any other inane subject.
In fact, no one was talking about anything. The only sounds were the occassional clicking of mouse buttons and keyboard keys and the low, steady rush of the air handlers.
I sat bathing in the glorious silence of that perfect moment.
And then, with a conversation about the Sony rootkit issue from some time back, the silence was shattered and my brief moment of paradise was lost.
*Sigh*
I felt pretty rough when I got home last night, with the drive through Friday night traffic doing nothing to improve my disposition, so I would say that it took more than the usual amount of determination to keep myself from giving in to whatever sickness had been coursing through my veins.
But it worked, so today I'm back to normal.
And, apparently, with the eye-glazingly juvenile discourses back up their standard cacophonous levels, so is everyone else.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Flukes...You Know I Hate 'Em
Minutes before I was about to head to a quick lunch this morning a problem popped up that I had to deal with.
I took care of what needed to be done immediately - though there was more work ahead of me - and quickly gulped down my lunch and hurried back to spend a few hours trying to fix a problem that turned out to not actually be much of a problem at all.
Basically it was a minor bug, easily dealt with, that through a fluke managed to seem like a much more widespread problem than it actually was.
So that's good news in one way, but irritating news in another, as it means I essentially wasted three hours that could have been spend doing anything other than wasting time trying to fix a problem that wasn't really a problem.
*Sigh*
As long as the looming "snow storm" doesn't cancel his flight tomorrow, Scott should back on Sunday.
Brian called in sounding like ass and said that the antibiotics he got should supposedly have him hale and hearty enough to come in on Sunday, so it looks like it's just one more day of not having the regular complement of weekenders.
I msyelf am feeling a bit under the weather. I've got a slight fever, a little cognitive fuzziness, and my throat feels odd. Not sore, exactly, just sort of...thick, like there's some kind of coating or something.
Oh well, I guess I'll just have to count on Vitamin C, sleep, and the desire to not be sick to get me through once again, seeing as how calling in sick tomorrow isn't an option.
That actually reminds me of an expression I came up with a few weeks back, which may just become my new motto: Failure is not an option...it comes standard.
My previous motto, which was also a Jon original (so far as I know) had been "The most firmly held ideals must be tempered with a healthy dose of fatalism," which is a tad wordy and a bit on the cerebral side, though that's hardly surprising.
Another axiom I once saw on a sign in a store also had a considerable appeal to me: If at first you don't succeed, quit! No sense being a damn fool about it.
I used to have a friend who was gay who once said, "If it doesn't fit, force it. That's my motto." I responded, "It would pretty much have to be."
...and the day drags on...
I took care of what needed to be done immediately - though there was more work ahead of me - and quickly gulped down my lunch and hurried back to spend a few hours trying to fix a problem that turned out to not actually be much of a problem at all.
Basically it was a minor bug, easily dealt with, that through a fluke managed to seem like a much more widespread problem than it actually was.
So that's good news in one way, but irritating news in another, as it means I essentially wasted three hours that could have been spend doing anything other than wasting time trying to fix a problem that wasn't really a problem.
*Sigh*
As long as the looming "snow storm" doesn't cancel his flight tomorrow, Scott should back on Sunday.
Brian called in sounding like ass and said that the antibiotics he got should supposedly have him hale and hearty enough to come in on Sunday, so it looks like it's just one more day of not having the regular complement of weekenders.
I msyelf am feeling a bit under the weather. I've got a slight fever, a little cognitive fuzziness, and my throat feels odd. Not sore, exactly, just sort of...thick, like there's some kind of coating or something.
Oh well, I guess I'll just have to count on Vitamin C, sleep, and the desire to not be sick to get me through once again, seeing as how calling in sick tomorrow isn't an option.
That actually reminds me of an expression I came up with a few weeks back, which may just become my new motto: Failure is not an option...it comes standard.
My previous motto, which was also a Jon original (so far as I know) had been "The most firmly held ideals must be tempered with a healthy dose of fatalism," which is a tad wordy and a bit on the cerebral side, though that's hardly surprising.
Another axiom I once saw on a sign in a store also had a considerable appeal to me: If at first you don't succeed, quit! No sense being a damn fool about it.
I used to have a friend who was gay who once said, "If it doesn't fit, force it. That's my motto." I responded, "It would pretty much have to be."
...and the day drags on...
However...
...on a positive note, my Federal refund is already in my checking account as of this morning.
Case In Point
Remember how I was talking about everything being a struggle?
After a long and irritating drive in to work I found out that I'm the only person from my shift who's in today, as Scott is off and Brian is out with bronchitis.
Chip is coming in to fill in at some point, though I'm not sure when. The message that Scott sent me to inform me of this situation came from his cell phone and cut off with "Chip is goi"
Since I'm assuming that he wasn't misspelling the Jewish term to indicate that Chip isn't a Jew, I'm guessing he meant to say something like "Chip is going to come in at x," or "Chip is going to come in from x to y."
In the meantime, it's pretty quiet and one of the people from the overnight crew, who's been in touch with Chip, has opted to stay until Chip arrives.
Still, it definitely proves my point about nothing being easy.
After a long and irritating drive in to work I found out that I'm the only person from my shift who's in today, as Scott is off and Brian is out with bronchitis.
Chip is coming in to fill in at some point, though I'm not sure when. The message that Scott sent me to inform me of this situation came from his cell phone and cut off with "Chip is goi"
Since I'm assuming that he wasn't misspelling the Jewish term to indicate that Chip isn't a Jew, I'm guessing he meant to say something like "Chip is going to come in at x," or "Chip is going to come in from x to y."
In the meantime, it's pretty quiet and one of the people from the overnight crew, who's been in touch with Chip, has opted to stay until Chip arrives.
Still, it definitely proves my point about nothing being easy.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Doing Battle With The Forces Of The Universe Before Breakfast
I don’t really have the energy for a proper entry today.
I met Kathleen for lunch and part of our discussion revolved around the topic of people for whom everything is easy, the sort of people who just coast through life without having to put forth any sort of effort.
There seem to be a lot of them.
I, however, as was evidenced by my efforts later in the day to put together this little kitchen island cart – which very nearly proved to be the piece of do-it-yourself furniture that drove me over the edge – that I’d bought at Wal-Mart, am not one of those people.
I don’t think most people are. Clearly the people ahead of me at JC Penney, where I spent 45 minutes just trying to exchange two pairs of pants, were not people for whom things come easily either, given just how fucking difficult it was for them to simply buy clothes.
Of course, I remain convinced that my life is full of more pointless little struggles than most, or at the very least I notice the struggles more than most.
After all, the people in line ahead of me who turn the simple act of purchasing goods and services into some complex and time-consuming task seem unperturbed by the fact that they’re somehow managing to make things a thousand times more complicated than they need to be, and I’m certain that it’s all being done for my benefit, though “benefit” probably isn’t the right word.
In any case, my point is that if I weren’t in line behind these people they probably would be able to just breeze through without any difficulties because they wouldn’t have the opportunity to inconvenience me.
By no means do I believe that my life is some enormous hardship, and I recognize that there are people all over the world who have it much, much worse than I do Hell, at various points in my life I’ve had it much worse than I do now.
It’s just that the fact that every single aspect of my life, most often through no discernible fault of my own, has to be such a struggle and that nothing ever comes easy.
I mean, accomplishing even the simplest of tasks like making breakfast seems to require that I first do battle with the very forces of the universe.
In discussing this, Kathleen, stating that she knew I didn’t want to hear it, said, “It builds character.”
My response? Fuck character.
What good has having character ever done for me?
Just once I’d like to experience what it’s like to have life be a cakewalk.
*Sigh* I guess that’s enough venting. I have a long weekend of work ahead of me, so I suppose I should begin preparing for it and all of the struggles it will bring with it.
I hope all of you, unlike me, will be able to coast through the weekend without a thought or a care in the world.
I met Kathleen for lunch and part of our discussion revolved around the topic of people for whom everything is easy, the sort of people who just coast through life without having to put forth any sort of effort.
There seem to be a lot of them.
I, however, as was evidenced by my efforts later in the day to put together this little kitchen island cart – which very nearly proved to be the piece of do-it-yourself furniture that drove me over the edge – that I’d bought at Wal-Mart, am not one of those people.
I don’t think most people are. Clearly the people ahead of me at JC Penney, where I spent 45 minutes just trying to exchange two pairs of pants, were not people for whom things come easily either, given just how fucking difficult it was for them to simply buy clothes.
Of course, I remain convinced that my life is full of more pointless little struggles than most, or at the very least I notice the struggles more than most.
After all, the people in line ahead of me who turn the simple act of purchasing goods and services into some complex and time-consuming task seem unperturbed by the fact that they’re somehow managing to make things a thousand times more complicated than they need to be, and I’m certain that it’s all being done for my benefit, though “benefit” probably isn’t the right word.
In any case, my point is that if I weren’t in line behind these people they probably would be able to just breeze through without any difficulties because they wouldn’t have the opportunity to inconvenience me.
By no means do I believe that my life is some enormous hardship, and I recognize that there are people all over the world who have it much, much worse than I do Hell, at various points in my life I’ve had it much worse than I do now.
It’s just that the fact that every single aspect of my life, most often through no discernible fault of my own, has to be such a struggle and that nothing ever comes easy.
I mean, accomplishing even the simplest of tasks like making breakfast seems to require that I first do battle with the very forces of the universe.
In discussing this, Kathleen, stating that she knew I didn’t want to hear it, said, “It builds character.”
My response? Fuck character.
What good has having character ever done for me?
Just once I’d like to experience what it’s like to have life be a cakewalk.
*Sigh* I guess that’s enough venting. I have a long weekend of work ahead of me, so I suppose I should begin preparing for it and all of the struggles it will bring with it.
I hope all of you, unlike me, will be able to coast through the weekend without a thought or a care in the world.
This Has Been A Test Of The Brian Emergency System
A building in DC was evacuated after sensors went off to indicate the presence of a possible nerve agent.
You can read about it here.
Of course, I knew about it well before it became breaking news thanks to a text message from Brian.
I guess there are some advantages to knowing a firefighter, though the early warning doesn't really make up for having him lay on the horns and sirens when they go past my place while I'm sleeping...
You can read about it here.
Of course, I knew about it well before it became breaking news thanks to a text message from Brian.
I guess there are some advantages to knowing a firefighter, though the early warning doesn't really make up for having him lay on the horns and sirens when they go past my place while I'm sleeping...
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
I Have To Admit That Another Bacon Dog STILL Sounds Good Right Now...
I woke up feeling really damned tired this morning, so it was only with great reluctance that I got out of bed at all.
Once I saw her online I IMed Kathleen to see if we were on for lunch today. Thanks to her busy meeting schedule, we were, in fact, off.
I decided to head out that way anyway just to hit the bigger and better Wal-Mart.
On the way I decided that, since I was going to be nearby, I would head the movie theater and take in a matinee of Underworld: Evolution.
Because I hadn't thought of this ahead of time, I didn't know the showtimes for it, but I figured I could stop by the theater and check, then eat some lunch or something as necessary to kill time before the next show.
The theater was still closed when I got there, so I went through the long and arduous process of looking up movie times on my cell phone (cell phones still have a long, long way to go in terms of ease of use for even the simplest Web browsing chores). Eventually I discovered that the first showing wasn't until 2:45, and as it was only just 11:00 I said, "Screw that."
(I actually said it even though I was sitting in my car alone.)
I stopped by the Dulles Town Center (which is just a fancy term for "mall") and had lunch in the food court.
Prior to the movie disappointment I'd gotten it into my head to have a hot dog at the theater, so I opted to go to the "Frank & Stein" in the food court, where I realized just how much I would have loved to have had a mall in which I could get a draft beer with my lunch back when I was drinking.
Today, of course, I opted for a Sprite.
As for the meal, I have to say that a foot- long Bacon Dog (hot dog with mustard, melted cheddar cheese, and real bacon bits) very well may be one of mankind's greatest inventions (Take that, sliced bread!). I'm going to have to sop by there again one day and give the Pizza Dog a shot.
After that I stopped at JC Penney and picked up a couple of pairs of jeans, including a black pair because, dammit, there's something wrong with the world when I don't own at least one pair of black jeans.
Of course, I should have tried them on at the store, as when I got home I found, to my horror, that in not exercising – or exercising restraint – lately I’ve actually gotten much fatter than I thought I had (Thanks a lot, foot-long Bacon Dog!), so tomorrow I have to bring them back and say, “Yeah, I need to return these because I’m apparently even more of a fat, disgusting slob than I thought I was.”
Maybe that Pizza Dog isn’t such a good idea after all…
From there it was on to Wal-Mart where I picked up some more of those plastic drawer storage units to throw in my closet, and then I headed home where, disgusted over the fact that I couldn’t even come close to securing the button on my new jeans, I crawled back into bed and slept for two and a half hours.
And that was pretty much my day.
I’ve managed to take a few more pictures of the condo now that I’ve settled into it a little more, so here you go…
In this picture we can see the multi-function Cuisinart in the corner.
See what I mean about the obtrusiveness of the washer and dryer?
If I ever buy an LCD TV I’ll be able to put it up on the mantle and change the layout of the living room completely. Doing that would actually give me room to move the dining room table from its current location and, with a different desk, move my main computer out of the bedroom. So, clearly, dropping $1,500+ on a single item is the smartest move I could make, right?
Once I saw her online I IMed Kathleen to see if we were on for lunch today. Thanks to her busy meeting schedule, we were, in fact, off.
I decided to head out that way anyway just to hit the bigger and better Wal-Mart.
On the way I decided that, since I was going to be nearby, I would head the movie theater and take in a matinee of Underworld: Evolution.
Because I hadn't thought of this ahead of time, I didn't know the showtimes for it, but I figured I could stop by the theater and check, then eat some lunch or something as necessary to kill time before the next show.
The theater was still closed when I got there, so I went through the long and arduous process of looking up movie times on my cell phone (cell phones still have a long, long way to go in terms of ease of use for even the simplest Web browsing chores). Eventually I discovered that the first showing wasn't until 2:45, and as it was only just 11:00 I said, "Screw that."
(I actually said it even though I was sitting in my car alone.)
I stopped by the Dulles Town Center (which is just a fancy term for "mall") and had lunch in the food court.
Prior to the movie disappointment I'd gotten it into my head to have a hot dog at the theater, so I opted to go to the "Frank & Stein" in the food court, where I realized just how much I would have loved to have had a mall in which I could get a draft beer with my lunch back when I was drinking.
Today, of course, I opted for a Sprite.
As for the meal, I have to say that a foot- long Bacon Dog (hot dog with mustard, melted cheddar cheese, and real bacon bits) very well may be one of mankind's greatest inventions (Take that, sliced bread!). I'm going to have to sop by there again one day and give the Pizza Dog a shot.
After that I stopped at JC Penney and picked up a couple of pairs of jeans, including a black pair because, dammit, there's something wrong with the world when I don't own at least one pair of black jeans.
Of course, I should have tried them on at the store, as when I got home I found, to my horror, that in not exercising – or exercising restraint – lately I’ve actually gotten much fatter than I thought I had (Thanks a lot, foot-long Bacon Dog!), so tomorrow I have to bring them back and say, “Yeah, I need to return these because I’m apparently even more of a fat, disgusting slob than I thought I was.”
Maybe that Pizza Dog isn’t such a good idea after all…
From there it was on to Wal-Mart where I picked up some more of those plastic drawer storage units to throw in my closet, and then I headed home where, disgusted over the fact that I couldn’t even come close to securing the button on my new jeans, I crawled back into bed and slept for two and a half hours.
And that was pretty much my day.
I’ve managed to take a few more pictures of the condo now that I’ve settled into it a little more, so here you go…
In this picture we can see the multi-function Cuisinart in the corner.
See what I mean about the obtrusiveness of the washer and dryer?
If I ever buy an LCD TV I’ll be able to put it up on the mantle and change the layout of the living room completely. Doing that would actually give me room to move the dining room table from its current location and, with a different desk, move my main computer out of the bedroom. So, clearly, dropping $1,500+ on a single item is the smartest move I could make, right?
The Story You Probably Haven't Been Waiting For
In an addition to the increase in the number of “y’alls” that I hear now that I’ve moved that much closer to West Virginia, I’ve noticed an exponential increase in the amount of gum smacking I hear as well.
I’m talking full-on, open-mouthed white trash chawin’ of the sort that would put most cows and My Name is Earl co-star and undisputed Queen of White Trash roles Jaime Pressly to shame.
When I ventured out to Super Target briefly today I was confronted by that sound in virtually every aisle.
Of course, the oddest thing I heard was when I was first walking in and I heard some lady talking on a cell phone by the door saying, “Would you want to be buried there? You and Diana?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a hypothetical question or an offer.
Once I got home I went to esurance.com and switched over my car insurance, as they quoted me a rate that was nearly 50% less than what Progressive was charging me. I saved even more ($90) by paying for the whole six months in one shot.
Afterwards I ventured out again to get ingredients for a recipe I found, which, if I ever make again, I will make on a much smaller scale (the recipe called for a whole chicken).
And that was pretty much my day. Nothing too interesting or exciting, which means that…
Now It Can Be Told: The Story of Jon Closing On His Condo!
Of course, saying that “now” it can be told implies that previously it couldn’t, which isn’t the case. I was just too lazy.
In any case, our story begins shortly before 9 am on Wednesday, January 25, 2006.
I’d just finished signing off on the walk-through inspection and was on my way to Vienna, Virginia, which is fairly close to DC.
As I mentioned that day, this meant that I was heading toward DC during rush hour, which is never fun. Thankfully I didn’t actually have to get on the Beltway, which would have made it a nightmare.
Under ideal circumstances the drive would have taken a bit over twenty minutes, but, as mentioned, these circumstances were not ideal.
At one point I found myself being forced to a crawl thanks to an unladen but still slow-moving car carrier ahead of me. I moved over to the lane to my left and started moving at a slightly brisker pace until shortly after one of the innumerable stoplights. Once traffic stopped in my lane it barely seemed to start moving again even well after the light had turned green. Thinking that maybe I’d passed the car carrier, I opted to move back over to the right lane.
Once I got there I saw the reason that traffic in the middle lane had slowed down: the car carrier had slipped into the lane ahead of me. Well, I thought to myself, that’s fine for him and he can stay there now.
Only he didn’t stay there: he lumbered back over into the right lane directly in front of me, cutting off my attempt to zoom past him!
I couldn’t believe it. It was the clearest sign ever that there are mysterious forces in the universe that enjoy fucking with me.
Fortunately he turned off at the next exit, but even so, it was a mind-boggling occurrence.
Once I got closer to the title company I found myself baffled by two sets of conflicting directions. Google Maps had told me to approach it from one direction, whereas the directions the title company had given me told me to approach it from another. Eventually I managed to delineate the conflict and found the building, though I ended up parking in a different parking lot because I’d turned in at the wrong entrance. Still, I was there and (just barely) on time.
My realtor, David, however, was not there, and as I reached for my cell phone to call him I realized that I’d left it in the car. I decided to just sit and wait and within the next couple of minutes David arrived.
Shortly after that a woman who introduced herself as Jenny came out to the waiting area to lead us back to her office. Once we got there she asked us if she could get us anything to drink, and when she departed, David and I gave each other a look that could be universally understood by every (straight) male to mean, “She’s pretty hot.”
David added, “Well that doesn’t suck.”
Jenny was a perky and petite little blonde with a body that belied the fact that she had children (“She’s a MILF,” David said). Still, there were some signs of aging that indicated that she was in her mid to late-thirties and while she was clearly holding up very well it was obvious, and it’s not my intention to sound mean or sexist, that physically her best years were behind her. I would say that five or ten years ago she really would have been a hot little number.
As I mentioned, there were some snafus with the paperwork, which I won’t get into, that made the whole process take almost three hours.
Since much of this time involved trying to get a hold of other people and then waiting for them to fax things to some other people, this meant that much of our time was spent simply sitting around and waiting.
After the walk-through two days earlier I’d mentioned Threshold to David and he’d asked for the URL, so during one of Jenny’s absences he said, “I checked out your blog.” Then, sort of looking at me askance in much the same way you might look at someone you suspect is dangerously unstable or who may secretly be the Unabomber or something, he added, “It’s…interesting.”
I said that I’m obviously much more vocal in writing than I am in person, which was a statement with which he agreed.
Later, we were talking about male-dominated nature of my work environment and I got into talking about some of the inane conversations I overhear about things like Magic: The Gathering and Everquest. These things were met with confusion, and as I started to explain what I was talking about it occurred to me that here I was attempting to explain elements of nerd culture to a former professional football player and I became keenly aware of the fact that I was a nerd in a small room with a jock, someone who should be my natural enemy.
At some point Jenny rejoined us, and though I’m not certain how it happened – though I think it was the result of David trying to steer the conversation in that direction on my behalf, as Jenny, we had learned, was recently divorced – we began talking about my love life.
Or rather, they began talking about it. I was busy being uncomfortable and trying to get them to stop talking to me about it.
After all, it was pretty much the standard sort of fare, involving suggestions about what I should do, where I should go, and how I should behave. It was exactly the sort of things that people say to me as they erroneously assume themselves to be the first ones to ever offer any of these suggestions.
What bothers me most about this sort of thing isn’t the fact that they don’t seem to realize that pretty much everyone I’ve ever known has said exactly the same things to me, it’s that they obviously think, just like everyone who said them before, that I’m too stupid to have ever though of any of these things on my own.
“Oh, really, I should go someplace if I want to meet someone? Wow, that never occurred to me. Or maybe I should try these newfangled online personals that have been around for over a decade? You just blew my mind; I never thought of that in the last ten years.”
What was most entertaining about the whole thing, though, was watching Jenny as she kept putting her foot in her mouth.
For example, when I said that I don’t go to bars since I quit drinking, she suggested that I “start drinking again!”
Then, as an afterthought, she said, “Unless you’re…you weren’t like an alcoholic or anything, were you?”
I said, that in fact, I was (and am), which was the first major embarrassment she suffered, though she rebounded by suggesting that I go to AA meetings to meet someone.
When I explained that it really wouldn’t be a good idea for me to hook up with another alcoholic, David chimed in and suggested that I go to church to meet someone.
My response was something along the lines of, “First of all, I work on Sundays. Second of all, no.”
The topic of online dating came up, and this was the major source of foot in mouth action as Jenny said that “she would never do something like that,” and that she’d worry about “meeting some creep,” and that it seemed “desperate,” and then she tried to explain how I shouldn’t be insulted by her suggesting that I try something that, in her estimation, only desperate, pathetic creeps should resort to.
She eventually went on to talk about how she knows “lots” of women who are desperate – possibly even desperate enough for me – to find a relationship, and said that she was going to make it her mission to find me a date.
Every person I’ve ever known who’s decided that he or she is going to take it upon him or her self to find me true love has pretty much forgotten that decision within seconds of us parting, and I’m sure that’s exactly what happened with Jenny after I walked out with my keys in hand.
Though there was much that was said that I could have been insulted by, I was too busy being amused by the whole thing. What I found especially amusing was the bit when she said that she knew lots of single women who are – as she was quick to point out – unlike her, desperate to meet someone. It brought to mind something that’s been a sort of standard refrain from women. Basically she said, “There are lots of women who’d be interested in you – I’m just not one of them.”
And of course there was my standard confusion at the inability that people have to understand that despite the perceived unfairness of it, there are lots of people who live their lives alone. The whole “there’s someone out there for everyone” mentality has so pervaded our culture that people seem to be blinded to the truth. People die alone every day, many of them having gone their entire lives without ever meeting that someone who is “for” them.
It’s almost as if they believe that life is somehow fair and that we all get happy endings.
They’re also unable to understand that it’s possible for someone to try to meet someone and fail, and fail enough times that they just decide to give up and do their best to content themselves with their lonely lives.
These people don’t need advice or suggestions, they don’t need promises – which won’t be kept – of dedicated assistance, and they certainly don’t need to spend the better part of an hour with two people who are more or less strangers focusing all of their attention on their failed love lives.
In any case, that, in a fairly big and wordy nutshell, is the story of my closing on the condo.
Tomorrow I’m going to head back into the old neighborhood so that I can go to the Wal-Mart that has less of a white trash flavor and more of a Middle Eastern flair, and along the way I’ll probably stop to have lunch with Kathleen.
And in the meantime I think I’ll sleep.
I’m talking full-on, open-mouthed white trash chawin’ of the sort that would put most cows and My Name is Earl co-star and undisputed Queen of White Trash roles Jaime Pressly to shame.
When I ventured out to Super Target briefly today I was confronted by that sound in virtually every aisle.
Of course, the oddest thing I heard was when I was first walking in and I heard some lady talking on a cell phone by the door saying, “Would you want to be buried there? You and Diana?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a hypothetical question or an offer.
Once I got home I went to esurance.com and switched over my car insurance, as they quoted me a rate that was nearly 50% less than what Progressive was charging me. I saved even more ($90) by paying for the whole six months in one shot.
Afterwards I ventured out again to get ingredients for a recipe I found, which, if I ever make again, I will make on a much smaller scale (the recipe called for a whole chicken).
And that was pretty much my day. Nothing too interesting or exciting, which means that…
Now It Can Be Told: The Story of Jon Closing On His Condo!
Of course, saying that “now” it can be told implies that previously it couldn’t, which isn’t the case. I was just too lazy.
In any case, our story begins shortly before 9 am on Wednesday, January 25, 2006.
I’d just finished signing off on the walk-through inspection and was on my way to Vienna, Virginia, which is fairly close to DC.
As I mentioned that day, this meant that I was heading toward DC during rush hour, which is never fun. Thankfully I didn’t actually have to get on the Beltway, which would have made it a nightmare.
Under ideal circumstances the drive would have taken a bit over twenty minutes, but, as mentioned, these circumstances were not ideal.
At one point I found myself being forced to a crawl thanks to an unladen but still slow-moving car carrier ahead of me. I moved over to the lane to my left and started moving at a slightly brisker pace until shortly after one of the innumerable stoplights. Once traffic stopped in my lane it barely seemed to start moving again even well after the light had turned green. Thinking that maybe I’d passed the car carrier, I opted to move back over to the right lane.
Once I got there I saw the reason that traffic in the middle lane had slowed down: the car carrier had slipped into the lane ahead of me. Well, I thought to myself, that’s fine for him and he can stay there now.
Only he didn’t stay there: he lumbered back over into the right lane directly in front of me, cutting off my attempt to zoom past him!
I couldn’t believe it. It was the clearest sign ever that there are mysterious forces in the universe that enjoy fucking with me.
Fortunately he turned off at the next exit, but even so, it was a mind-boggling occurrence.
Once I got closer to the title company I found myself baffled by two sets of conflicting directions. Google Maps had told me to approach it from one direction, whereas the directions the title company had given me told me to approach it from another. Eventually I managed to delineate the conflict and found the building, though I ended up parking in a different parking lot because I’d turned in at the wrong entrance. Still, I was there and (just barely) on time.
My realtor, David, however, was not there, and as I reached for my cell phone to call him I realized that I’d left it in the car. I decided to just sit and wait and within the next couple of minutes David arrived.
Shortly after that a woman who introduced herself as Jenny came out to the waiting area to lead us back to her office. Once we got there she asked us if she could get us anything to drink, and when she departed, David and I gave each other a look that could be universally understood by every (straight) male to mean, “She’s pretty hot.”
David added, “Well that doesn’t suck.”
Jenny was a perky and petite little blonde with a body that belied the fact that she had children (“She’s a MILF,” David said). Still, there were some signs of aging that indicated that she was in her mid to late-thirties and while she was clearly holding up very well it was obvious, and it’s not my intention to sound mean or sexist, that physically her best years were behind her. I would say that five or ten years ago she really would have been a hot little number.
As I mentioned, there were some snafus with the paperwork, which I won’t get into, that made the whole process take almost three hours.
Since much of this time involved trying to get a hold of other people and then waiting for them to fax things to some other people, this meant that much of our time was spent simply sitting around and waiting.
After the walk-through two days earlier I’d mentioned Threshold to David and he’d asked for the URL, so during one of Jenny’s absences he said, “I checked out your blog.” Then, sort of looking at me askance in much the same way you might look at someone you suspect is dangerously unstable or who may secretly be the Unabomber or something, he added, “It’s…interesting.”
I said that I’m obviously much more vocal in writing than I am in person, which was a statement with which he agreed.
Later, we were talking about male-dominated nature of my work environment and I got into talking about some of the inane conversations I overhear about things like Magic: The Gathering and Everquest. These things were met with confusion, and as I started to explain what I was talking about it occurred to me that here I was attempting to explain elements of nerd culture to a former professional football player and I became keenly aware of the fact that I was a nerd in a small room with a jock, someone who should be my natural enemy.
At some point Jenny rejoined us, and though I’m not certain how it happened – though I think it was the result of David trying to steer the conversation in that direction on my behalf, as Jenny, we had learned, was recently divorced – we began talking about my love life.
Or rather, they began talking about it. I was busy being uncomfortable and trying to get them to stop talking to me about it.
After all, it was pretty much the standard sort of fare, involving suggestions about what I should do, where I should go, and how I should behave. It was exactly the sort of things that people say to me as they erroneously assume themselves to be the first ones to ever offer any of these suggestions.
What bothers me most about this sort of thing isn’t the fact that they don’t seem to realize that pretty much everyone I’ve ever known has said exactly the same things to me, it’s that they obviously think, just like everyone who said them before, that I’m too stupid to have ever though of any of these things on my own.
“Oh, really, I should go someplace if I want to meet someone? Wow, that never occurred to me. Or maybe I should try these newfangled online personals that have been around for over a decade? You just blew my mind; I never thought of that in the last ten years.”
What was most entertaining about the whole thing, though, was watching Jenny as she kept putting her foot in her mouth.
For example, when I said that I don’t go to bars since I quit drinking, she suggested that I “start drinking again!”
Then, as an afterthought, she said, “Unless you’re…you weren’t like an alcoholic or anything, were you?”
I said, that in fact, I was (and am), which was the first major embarrassment she suffered, though she rebounded by suggesting that I go to AA meetings to meet someone.
When I explained that it really wouldn’t be a good idea for me to hook up with another alcoholic, David chimed in and suggested that I go to church to meet someone.
My response was something along the lines of, “First of all, I work on Sundays. Second of all, no.”
The topic of online dating came up, and this was the major source of foot in mouth action as Jenny said that “she would never do something like that,” and that she’d worry about “meeting some creep,” and that it seemed “desperate,” and then she tried to explain how I shouldn’t be insulted by her suggesting that I try something that, in her estimation, only desperate, pathetic creeps should resort to.
She eventually went on to talk about how she knows “lots” of women who are desperate – possibly even desperate enough for me – to find a relationship, and said that she was going to make it her mission to find me a date.
Every person I’ve ever known who’s decided that he or she is going to take it upon him or her self to find me true love has pretty much forgotten that decision within seconds of us parting, and I’m sure that’s exactly what happened with Jenny after I walked out with my keys in hand.
Though there was much that was said that I could have been insulted by, I was too busy being amused by the whole thing. What I found especially amusing was the bit when she said that she knew lots of single women who are – as she was quick to point out – unlike her, desperate to meet someone. It brought to mind something that’s been a sort of standard refrain from women. Basically she said, “There are lots of women who’d be interested in you – I’m just not one of them.”
And of course there was my standard confusion at the inability that people have to understand that despite the perceived unfairness of it, there are lots of people who live their lives alone. The whole “there’s someone out there for everyone” mentality has so pervaded our culture that people seem to be blinded to the truth. People die alone every day, many of them having gone their entire lives without ever meeting that someone who is “for” them.
It’s almost as if they believe that life is somehow fair and that we all get happy endings.
They’re also unable to understand that it’s possible for someone to try to meet someone and fail, and fail enough times that they just decide to give up and do their best to content themselves with their lonely lives.
These people don’t need advice or suggestions, they don’t need promises – which won’t be kept – of dedicated assistance, and they certainly don’t need to spend the better part of an hour with two people who are more or less strangers focusing all of their attention on their failed love lives.
In any case, that, in a fairly big and wordy nutshell, is the story of my closing on the condo.
Tomorrow I’m going to head back into the old neighborhood so that I can go to the Wal-Mart that has less of a white trash flavor and more of a Middle Eastern flair, and along the way I’ll probably stop to have lunch with Kathleen.
And in the meantime I think I’ll sleep.
Monday, February 06, 2006
The Great Leveler
So far, one of the things I’ve noticed about Leesburg that’s different from Ashburn is that when I go out into the world I encounter a lot more people who speak English.
Kind of.
I say “kind of” because the English I’m hearing is so thickly drawled as to almost be another language entirely, a language that I would call Trashlish.
It’s based on English but has developed in trailer parks in West Virginia and is slowly migrating eastward. I don’t think I’ve heard quite so many “y’alls” in my life as I did in the twenty minutes or so that I was in the grocery store today. For a little while I was beginning to think that I’d stumbled into an episode of My Name is Earl and was walking along behind Earl’s ex-wife Joy, though I didn’t see anyone quite that thin anywhere in the store.
I’m still getting used to the stores here. The Leesburg Shoppers Food Warehouse, my preferred grocery store here in VA, is much nicer than the SFW (in addition to being cheaper than other places, they have big “SFW” signs on the stores, which I just find hilarious and reason enough to shop there regardless of the savings) in Ashburn, though the layout is very different.
The Wal-Mart, however, is another matter entirely. For one thing, it’s a lot smaller than the one I went to when I lived in Ashburn. For another, it’s located at the intersection of Ghetto St. and White Trash Blvd.
This particular Wal-Mart seems to be the great leveler; it’s the place where the poor and the very poor alike come together…and stand in front of whatever it is I happen to want to look at.
Regardless of where they stand, this Wal-Mart brings together all kinds of social strata: the slightly overweight and the morbidly obese; the pungent and the rancid; the one-toothed and the toothless.
Being too small, to dingy, and too full of people, it’s a place I will not be likely to visit often, so it looks as though I’ll have to venture back into the old neighborhood whenever I need to make a Wal-Mart stop.
After I got home from my shopping today the exhaust fan in the bathroom – which comes on whenever I turn on the light – began making a very loud grinding noise.
The fan had obviously not been replaced or cleaned out during the renovation, so it was covered with all sorts of dust. I did my best to clean it off, and while the grinding noise stopped, it continued to be pretty loud and various bits of dust and debris rained down from it while it was running, so I opted to simply disconnect it.
I’ve been compiling a list of things that need to be fixed for my 30 day post-walk-through touch-ups, and that’s definitely going on it.
Messing with the fan was about as exciting as the day got. I’ve been doing some work on a new picture, which had been going very well, but I seem to have hit a brick wall.
I was invited to a going-away party for Chris tonight. I opted not to go because…well, ultimately, I suppose you could say because I’m a jerk.
Then again, it does say right here on this page that I’m “reclusive and anti-social,” so it should hardly come as a surprise that I’m not inclined to go someplace that will be full of people, particularly when many of them will be drinking.
Kathleen called and said that she and Brian were stopping by the place – it’s here in Leesburg – but by that time I was already into my lounging around the house clothes and fully into lounging around the house mode, so that wasn’t enough to entice me out.
Besides, it’s not like I would have brought much to the party, though I suppose it could be argued that every party needs a certain amount of awkwardness and social-discomfort, which is what I would have brought with me.
Still, I did wish Chris well as we left work yesterday, and I bought him breakfast on Saturday, so I think that makes up for me not going to his party and sitting quietly in a corner talking to Kathleen.
As I’m writing this, Blogger is down for maintenance, so I think I’ll just call it quits for now and post this later.
Kind of.
I say “kind of” because the English I’m hearing is so thickly drawled as to almost be another language entirely, a language that I would call Trashlish.
It’s based on English but has developed in trailer parks in West Virginia and is slowly migrating eastward. I don’t think I’ve heard quite so many “y’alls” in my life as I did in the twenty minutes or so that I was in the grocery store today. For a little while I was beginning to think that I’d stumbled into an episode of My Name is Earl and was walking along behind Earl’s ex-wife Joy, though I didn’t see anyone quite that thin anywhere in the store.
I’m still getting used to the stores here. The Leesburg Shoppers Food Warehouse, my preferred grocery store here in VA, is much nicer than the SFW (in addition to being cheaper than other places, they have big “SFW” signs on the stores, which I just find hilarious and reason enough to shop there regardless of the savings) in Ashburn, though the layout is very different.
The Wal-Mart, however, is another matter entirely. For one thing, it’s a lot smaller than the one I went to when I lived in Ashburn. For another, it’s located at the intersection of Ghetto St. and White Trash Blvd.
This particular Wal-Mart seems to be the great leveler; it’s the place where the poor and the very poor alike come together…and stand in front of whatever it is I happen to want to look at.
Regardless of where they stand, this Wal-Mart brings together all kinds of social strata: the slightly overweight and the morbidly obese; the pungent and the rancid; the one-toothed and the toothless.
Being too small, to dingy, and too full of people, it’s a place I will not be likely to visit often, so it looks as though I’ll have to venture back into the old neighborhood whenever I need to make a Wal-Mart stop.
After I got home from my shopping today the exhaust fan in the bathroom – which comes on whenever I turn on the light – began making a very loud grinding noise.
The fan had obviously not been replaced or cleaned out during the renovation, so it was covered with all sorts of dust. I did my best to clean it off, and while the grinding noise stopped, it continued to be pretty loud and various bits of dust and debris rained down from it while it was running, so I opted to simply disconnect it.
I’ve been compiling a list of things that need to be fixed for my 30 day post-walk-through touch-ups, and that’s definitely going on it.
Messing with the fan was about as exciting as the day got. I’ve been doing some work on a new picture, which had been going very well, but I seem to have hit a brick wall.
I was invited to a going-away party for Chris tonight. I opted not to go because…well, ultimately, I suppose you could say because I’m a jerk.
Then again, it does say right here on this page that I’m “reclusive and anti-social,” so it should hardly come as a surprise that I’m not inclined to go someplace that will be full of people, particularly when many of them will be drinking.
Kathleen called and said that she and Brian were stopping by the place – it’s here in Leesburg – but by that time I was already into my lounging around the house clothes and fully into lounging around the house mode, so that wasn’t enough to entice me out.
Besides, it’s not like I would have brought much to the party, though I suppose it could be argued that every party needs a certain amount of awkwardness and social-discomfort, which is what I would have brought with me.
Still, I did wish Chris well as we left work yesterday, and I bought him breakfast on Saturday, so I think that makes up for me not going to his party and sitting quietly in a corner talking to Kathleen.
As I’m writing this, Blogger is down for maintenance, so I think I’ll just call it quits for now and post this later.
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