Think really good thoughts for us, okay? We’re putting a bid
in on a house this afternoon before I go to work. We have no
pre-approved financing because god bless me if we ever do anything in
the right order. This smacks of shades of the Little Red Wagon Wheel
House: Bidding! Suddenly! Want a house! Yes, crazy!
But this house, oh. It has cosmetic blemishes (for the love of
alpaca, the earnest young realtor had placed a red BOW on the side of
the house), like needing flooring in pretty much every room in the
place (linoleum in the bedroom), and it smells like smoke (and
again, the young male realtor who probably called his mother for advice
on this was burning candles, as many as possibly ALL the scented
candles in Oakland, ALL the scents, so evergreen was mixed with vanilla
mixed with lemon mixed with old smoke, and he was just grinning away on
the couch — he seemed very sweet, though). But it has three small
bedrooms, one for us, and one for an office for each of us, which will
add to sanity, and it has a yard, and it’s in the BEST neighborhood,
one that we know and love, and we met some neighbors who were the
cutest things, and the best was when La told me later just what I was
thinking, "It’s the kind of place I always thought I’d live when I grew
up." Me, too.
And hey, if it’s not to be, it won’t be. I worry about disappointing
Lala, and I worry about disappointing myself. I worry that my big
sudden dreams will be smashed on the ground, but I know that the
actual truth is that if that happens, I’ll just be disappointed. I’ll
have a good cry, and Lala will be sad, but she’ll tell me it’s okay,
and then we’ll rent out my place and rent a bigger place for us to be
together, and that’s what this is all about anyway, right?
It sure could be cute, though. We’d paint it orange. Dreams don’t hurt.
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