But I persist w this house, the same one, which was re-listed and they called me and asked me if I still wanted it the day before they showed it generally, giving me the advantage of first/highest offer to their asking price (ie my last highest bid before the auction) - and I decided yes, I did want it still. For many reasons. Such as if I don't stop living with OJ maybe I won't be able to love her any more at some point, and I'll open the door and accidentally kill Poke with a garden utensil before I realize what I'm doing. And I'm bored, creative energy wise. And feel like this house I live in is me and I am it but I'm needing to outgrow myself and so the shedding is the thing as much as it is the pain. And I want to go out grazing where there are so many people potentially viable from a social point of view that I'd have to be helen keller to miss all the opportunities (bc let's face it, W-A-T-E-R is my idea of chit chat half the time) . . . and more. I have a feeling that I don't know all the personal/emotional reasons yet.
And the house itself. Everyone who sees it kind of can't understand what I like about it sooo much, cz as Bale Dave put it, "This place is some kind of odd." Today I learned better what it is. I had the first half of the home inspection (I still have to have the water turned on and the plumbing inpected - today was everything else). Turns out that it's built entirely of masonry. Although it looks woody, it's all stone or concrete. The rafters (not the show ones, the ones that hold up the second floor etc) are made of concrete. No, seriously. The entire second floor is concrete under the tile or carpeting whatever. The floor downstairs is stone, or plank wood on top, w concrete underneath. The walls are a foot thick, the inside walls I mean. The home inspector said it's built like a bomb shelter, top to bottom, "unique to say the least." I thought: This house is built like men I like, solid as if trashcompacted sorta - like Doug. If my grandpa had been a house, he'd have been built just like this one. Like you could punch at its palms all day while it read the paper and laughed at your effort, amused by your curly little relentlessness.
The pipes could still be busted, and embedded in concrete that'd be quite a project to fix. So it's not written in stone yet ( ha ha ), but I got a feeling that this is gonna be my new digs after all. Despite the tweeking out, of which I will do plenty more God knows, I am announcing my intention and desire that it be so.
