The Kid and I (Oz came along for moral support and a third pair of eyes, which was useful quite a lot) saw four houses yesterday, three of which were in a totally old and somewhat run down neighborhood. Funny thing about that neighborhood is that it totally reminds me of where I grew up (and where my mother still lives). :P So, not opposed to the area on GP, but dude. Most of the people I work with wouldn't come to a housewarming party. *sigh* To be fair, I'm almost thinking I'd rather deal with a townhome elsewhere than a house there. Damn, dog, what hypocrites we all are.
The fourth house on the other hand was perfect. 10 miles further from work than where I live now, but still well within reason for commute, and, omg. fucking perfect. 3 bedrooms, yard, garage, in an area of town I know and could totally live in; it's like a bloody fairy tale. (Shh. I have low standards.) It's right on the outside edge of what I can afford, but afford it I can. Of course, there will probably be a metric asston of bids on it by tomorrow (saturday was the first day that it was available for showing), and as a result, my realtor is not confident that even bidding a bit higher than asking would work out. *sighsomemore* Anyway, cross your silly fingers. In the event of magical flying swine delivering good news, I believe I shall weep. :P
In peach rescue news, it appears the gardeners relieved the lonely neighbor tree of its remaining fruit, as not only was the silly thing mostly naked today, it was tended, broken branch trimmed and tied up. So, no more free peaches, but I continue to thank it for my newfound love of jam artistry. mmmjam.
fish_echo suggested that I use it as gifts to everyone and their mother, though I have to say, being the dork that I am, I was already handing one to like, everyone I know. :P Oz went so far as to eye the pile jealously, even though it still takes up a good quarter of the kitchen table. Apparently this means we should go to a pickyourown farm or something. Y'know, in the next like, three weeks. But still.
Moving is slow and depressing. It's also a lovely way to get rid of a ton of crap. Craigslist curbalerts left and right, ebay marathons and handing off piles of things to the neighbor kids has made a dent in my stuff-filled existence, but you just can't shrink the number of books I own. Seriously, good fucking god. Speaking of craigslist, I'm thinking of hiring some of the cheap mover guys for shlepping the shit back and forth this time because Oof. exhausted. and that's just from the emotional/mental prepwork this time. imagine the actual moving bit?