Insert Superlative Here

What the hell? Where has everyone been? I've been sitting here, with all sorts of clever things to say, but no one was here to listen so they've all disappeared into the ether that is the interwebs.

Ok, ok, you caught me...my lazy ass has been notably absent from the blog world for quite some time. (57 days or so, actually, and probably not as notably as I'd like to think.) Anyway, if you're still with me enough to be reading this, you've probably one of the people who's simultaneously reading the Remix, in which case you know most of what's gone on with me in the past two months...but I'll recap anyway.

Remix moved in, and she's wonderful. The new condo is coming along nicely, though improvements have momentarily been suspended on account of funding issues. The cats like the new place, as much as cats have opinions about this sort of thing. Work is busy, but still fun and interesting. We're eating well here, both the Remix and I enjoy cooking, so there's something delicious to be eaten on almost a nightly basis, plus more than occasional cakes. (Both the Remix and I also enjoy cake.) I quit smoking, hoping to take advantage of the climate change to break the habit.

I'm enjoying the hell out of living with this girl. She makes me laugh, she's great company, and she seems to enjoy the hell out of it right back. She's full of ideas for decorating this place, but still interested in making it our place, not just hers, and she's making it fun for me. She's watching movies from my eclectic Netflix list, and I'm picking up new music from her list. My Tivo is recording reality TV right along with Heroes and UFC fights. Our books live on the same shelves, reenergizing our individual libraries by adding a whole new list of someone else's favorites. Most importantly, though, it feels like home. For both of us, I think. Hell, I know.

Yeah, you're happy for us, I get it. If I were you, I'd be sick of reading this already too. I don't know what else to say, though. We're living together, we're happy, and damn it, it works. We've both seen enough bad relationships lately to know how lucky we are--we could be trying to sell the place less than three months after we bought it. It happens, you know. I know a guy.

I'm on my way, I'm on my waaaaay...Home Sweet Home!

Come on...all you people who read the Remix's blog, did anyone ever suspect she'd end up moving in with a guy who quotes Motley Crue lyrics as blog titles?

Today is closing day. Approximately two hours from now, The Remix and I will own a home. (Technically, I'll have my name on the paperwork, but who's being technical? Besides, she's paying half the mortgage AND picking out the bedskirt, which I think more than qualifies.) We're both really excited, I think, even in the face of hours and hours of packing left to finish before moving on Saturday.

I have nothing enlightening to say...I've been running back and forth to the dumpster all morning throwing away my excess stuff, and my brain is tired. I'm going to go sign a mountain of paperwork now, then come home to my blood-spattered cats* and half-boxed apartment and finish off the packing. Wish me luck, and the next time you hear from me will be from the new joint, tentatively entitled Pant's Labyrinth. (Yet another long story.)

*The cats went to get declawed this week. The fat one is white, and also stubborn, so the day after surgery he busted open all his wounds and now his paws look like he just massacred the Incas. After not seeing the cats for all of three fucking days, I got misty eyed picking them up (the blood didn't help)--I'm a world class loser, you heard it here first.

Moving On Up

So I'm sitting here having my first cigarette of the day at 6:30 in the morning on a Sunday, wondering what the hell I'm doing awake in the first place. The Remix went out to play wingman for a single friend last night, and I was going to take the opportunity to go get a little tipsy and sing karaoke with some of my friends, but somehow instead I wound up laying down to take a twenty minute nap at 9pm and didn't wake up until this morning. That's ok, I probably needed it, but now I'm up early with nothing to do, so I feel like I ought to be productive.

I signed my mortgage application this week, and did the home inspection, and everything seems to be going along swimmingly. Since it's yet to debut, why don't y'all take a look:

That's the living room, it's a good size, with maybe another 10-12 feet behind the camera in the connected dining room. What really got me on this one, though, was the kitchen:

I've got an island. I'm so excited about this place, I've gone a little goofy. I close in less than a month, move that weekend, and the Remix will move in the weekend after that. I can't wait. We're already mentally redecorating rooms and placing mannequins (you'd have to see her place to understand), and it should be a lot of fun.

I think we're doing this the right way. One, I'm the only one on the mortgage. Neither of us expect anything to go horribly wrong between us, but if it does, there's no complications caused by the living arrangements. Two, I can afford this place all by myself--it'd be a little bit tighter on the budget than it should be now, but totally doable. Instead of taking our combined rents and adding a couple hundred bucks so we could get a palatial condo we can barely afford, we've set it up so that we'll each save some money every month over what we've been paying. Even better, in a year when I get my next raise, we'll have all kinds of extra money to play with, because we're not living paycheck to paycheck now. I feel all grown up, and it's a little scary to see how naturally I'm taking to the responsibility. Who'd have thought?

Now, I'm going to go do some laundry, maybe even run the dishwasher, and then settle in and watch a movie or something off the Tivo before the Remix gets here. She said she wasn't going to be hungover...