Title: Houses and cars and critters, oh my
Houses...
Update on the house situation: The landlord is selling his own house and is planning on building another one. Apparently he got an offer much sooner than he expected, and the buyers want to have the house by the beginning of April. This leaves the poor guy with no place to live. Sooo, he wanted to know if we would mind putting off moving for six or eight months until he gets his new place built. I wouldn't mind it, but for three reasons: 1) I want to get the townhouse sold while the market is good and get the hell out of debt; 2) we have more critters than we have room for (hello, Reilly); and 3) the townhouse doesn't have air conditioning, and I'll be damned if I'm going through another summer in that sweatbox. The rental house he's offering us is 1100 square feet, with an 1100 square foot basement and four bedrooms, on 4.5 acres. I can deal with that 'til the fall. We'd still have space for two roommates, sprawl space for the dogs, and the cats would be fine. And I still get my art room.
Update: We drove by the house. Ian doesn't like it, because it's down the road from a feed lot. I can sympathize with that, but I don't know what else we're going to do. Our other options right now are a 3BR in town and a 2BR down the road from the original farmhouse. Guess I don't get my art room after all. It's only my sanity at stake here; no biggie. I may end up renting studio space in Boulder after all, just to get some breathing room.
...cars...
The car saga continues. It's back in the shop for the third time in as many weeks with the same damn problem. I'm about to go down there and pitch a fit. We shouldn't have to pay for this visit. Of course, mechanics can be remarkably obtuse, I've found; if their cute little computer says there's nothing wrong with the car, by God, there's nothing wrong with it. Of course, you still get to pay out the ass for their time spent drooling and punching buttons. And no matter how much you holler about it, you still get screwed.
*ahem* Sorry. I have issues with the Chrysler dealership right now. Don't take it personally.
... and critters
In case you missed it, we have a new crittervarmint, Reilly. (See the link above for pictures.) He's the only pure-bred dog I've ever owned. Reilly is a golden retriever with papers and everything. We rescued him from the pet store when his owners brought him back after having him for three months. I guess the kid got tired of the puppy and the parents didn't want to take care of him... who knows. Bastards. The pet store had no room to put him. He'd been there one night and had spent the night at an employee's house for lack of anywhere else to go. The little guy is cute, but he hasn't learned not to bark his head off at the slightest provocation. A training collar is in order, I think... we're going to pick one up tonight. You know, the kind that gives him a little zap when the dog barks. This should be fun. "Yap yap yap y-- ZZZZTT!!" Heh heh heh.
I know I'm an evil shit; you don't have to tell me.
-- marcie.