Where to start … where to start?
Did you know I have a high IQ? I'm just pointing that out because you would never believe it if I didn't tell you in spite of that amazing fact, I have Idiotic Episodes on a fairly regular basis. Maybe I should make Idiotic Episodes a new category in the sidebar of 24?
We're in the process of refinancing our house. We're doing it to take advantage of lower interest rates. Or better said, we've got two kids in college right now and college costs a shitload of cash.
Briefcase is in charge of the refi. It's only fair. He travels all the time on business. I'm responsible for absolutely everything else in our lives since he's never home. It seems only right that he gets to handle The Refi Project. Also, I don't have any a lot of patience for that sort of thing.
In addition, I've kind of been a walking disaster lately. (See yesterday's brazilian waxing post if you question the validity of that statement.) I'm blaming H1N1 and Tamiflu for every absent minded thing I do. Seriously, I don't think the drug is out of my system yet and I'm blaming it for Mental Confusion because I can. (See the Tamiflu listed side effects and you will see Mental Confusion listed!) It would not be a good idea for me, in my current mentally confused state, to be in charge of refinancing.
(By the way … yesterday Briefcase asked me exactly how much my little "incident" at the waxing salon cost to repair. Can you believe it? He never would have known if he would just stop reading my blog! Who told that man I have a blog?)
(Also, yesterday The Torturer stood there just shaking his head at me in amazement in bewilderment totally dumbfounded as I told him about the "waxing mishap." He says he "just doesn't know why" I "seem to have so many more mishaps than other people." Do you think he was insulting me by saying that? I don't think the man appreciates the humor I've brought to his life at all. Let me tell you, he would be bored to death without me. I'm sure of it.)
(Also, yesterday I got an email from my old college boyfriend. The email said he had just finished reading that very same brazilian waxing post and wanted to know "how much of that story was real?" Um, ex-boyfriend? I can't make up shit like that. I wrote back to him and said, "All of my posts are real, aren't you glad you escaped me?" He didn't reply, so I take that as a resounding YES! He's probably laughing his ass off at Briefcase having to pay for shattered hurricane lamps.)
What was I saying before all those parentheses?
Oh yeah, the Refi.
So, an appraiser was supposed to come out to our house this Friday for about 45 minutes to take a look at our house and take photos. This was a good plan because every Friday a house cleaner comes to our home to do all the things I can no longer do since the car accident. You know, things that take two working arms like changing sheets and mopping floors and tedious chores I could do but pretend I can't. Mr. Appraiser was going to come when the house would be clean and sparkly for pictures.
Except, Mr. Appraiser showed up yesterday! Yesterday was only Wednesday. Yesterday was not Friday.
Briefcase forgot to tell me there had been a change of plans.
I answered the door, flipped out when Mr. Appraiser explained who he was, and slammed the door shut in his face. Well, I didn't really slam the door shut, but I sort of did. Then I reopened it and said, "Just give me a minute, I'll be right back," and shut the door in his face again.
I looked around at the clutter on my coffee room table. I grabbed magazines and books and newspapers and scooped them in my arms. I tossed the whole mess in the oven to hide it. I saw a few dog toys on the floor. I picked them up and hurriedly tossed them into the pantry. I went back to the front door and opened it with a smile.
Well, who knew?
Mr. Appraiser was very thorough!
Mr. Appraiser made notes on the type of oven I have right before he opened the door of it revealing the newspapers and magazines I was about to bake. Mr. Appraiser wanted to see our "walk-in" pantry also. He discovered 1) It is not a walk-in pantry and 2) We have dog toys sticking out of cereal boxes.
Mr. Appraiser liked our pool and the large upstairs deck we built onto the house. I'm not quite sure what he thought when he went through our bedrooms though. I was downstairs on the phone as he made his way through them. It wasn't until later in the evening that I realized my rabbit was sitting out in plain sight on my bedspread.
Do you suppose it increased the value of our bedroom?
© Twenty Four At Heart