Title: Yawn
Hearing: Samuel L. Jackson being a bad-ass mofo and fucking with Farley's
head in The Negotiator
Feeling: Pretty good -- got the house clean, mostly
Seeing: Steve straggling around the
house in a desultory manner
Reading: alt.sysadmin.recovery
I am woman, hear me ROAR. Ian and I spent much of the afternoon and evening getting the townhouse cleaned up so it'll be ready to show this week. The downstairs bathroom has been cleaned and repainted, the upstairs bathroom has been cleaned and scrubbed (thank you, Ian), the two bedrooms have been vacated and vacuumed, and everything we need to take with us is downstairs occupying the living room. Now all we need is a truck and a storage room and we're good to go. We've spackled, patched, painted, cleaned and we're going to re-carpet the house soon, probably this week. The damn thing is going to be nicer than when we moved in. Heh. We rule.
We hope to get the house sold in July and close by late July to mid August. With any luck, we'll clear a decent amount of dough on the place. Once we do that, it's "Sayonara, bitches!" to the credit card pukes. Yeah... that'll be cool. I have erotic fantasies about giving my creditors the finger once and for all, you know. Maybe we'll be able to get the T-bird running pretty well too. The Pinto, you see, is no more. It's a sad, sad thing, it is. Ian got rear-ended by some half-assed bitch in a white Grand Am a week ago. And oh, WASN'T he pissed? So the Pinto is dead and the T-bird is on the fritz. Fun. If you want to see what's left of the orange beast, the picture is here.
I'm doing a class at Sun this week. It's the advanced performance tuning and management class. Mmm... geekdom. It'll be fun. I needed a break from the Kindergarten Class anyway.
It appears to be the Hour of Scampering at the boys' house. The cats are tearing around with the rips, for no apparent reason. Zip, the resident shithead, is trying her damnedest to kill and destroy every other feline in the house, as she does on a regular basis. Since Solaris left, there's no boss cat any more. I think Zip is trying to make a name for herself in the kitty mafia.
That's all for today, kids. I'm tapped out for pithy prose.
-- marcie.
