Weekend: The Nerve, The Brain, The Heart

Took the day off work to chill and meet up with the house inspector. Those of you who read the previous post pretty much know how that turned out. For those of you who didn’t: yadda yadda yadda, the deal’s off. It’s too much work, and the seller’s previous behavior tells me that they will be willing to half-ass work if they think that they won’t get caught. I don’t need that crap. I can change a boob light or two, but I can’t fix the slope of a backyard. Did I mention that Metro Water went out there and also used the phrase “run like hell?” Cause they did. It’s time to move on to another house that may not be as sexy-looking but might actually be…you know…not rotting. It’s all about how you look at things like a bath fitter as opposed to a tiled shower: as long as you keep the price of the house down, you can get that tile custom-done. It’s just hard to keep the nerve to keep trying. We put together an offer on House 2, but we’re waiting for a disclosure statement before submitting an offer. Meanwhile, the seller from House 1 keeps trying to make me feel better. Oh we’re going to have a roofer come out and check the roof, we’re going to fix the moisture, blah blah blah. Whatever.

For a couple of days, I thought maybe I had this worked out. I thought maybe it would be time to think about all of the other stuff that’s been on hold. Work issues, boy issues, friend issues. I was able to point my brain in the direction of finding a place to go once I get laid off in December. I was able to send out emails to try and prove that my brain is enough. There have been no responses. This does not make for an untroubled mind.

While dealing with house drama (which is becoming the story of my life, btw), I headed over to Fierce to witness and document Jen’s new haircut. She manned up and got a Deathhawk, and it is most triumphant. There will be pix and a more thorough post soon, but for now you has to take my word for it. Afterward, we hit the beauty supply for teasing combs and Target for…well, whatever. “Whatever” in this case meaning “rogering the h.i.p. and Rimmel sections of the makeup department.” My mood sort of crashed after that and I went home to take a nap and regroup.

Got up to meet Real estate Lady at Starbucks to go over the house inspection and lick some wounds. “I just can’t do it. SO much would have to be done to make me feel good about this. I just can’t do it.” It’s too bad, but a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do. If they’re not willing to rebuild 1/3 of that house, I’m not willing to buy it. Sorry, dudes.

After that, I wandered around Opry Mills for a while and then hung out with jrob. This whole situation requires a stronger heart than mine, as my whole gut feeling is “do not trust this person.” I have forgiven stuff that happened in the past, but forgetting it would make me a damn fool. Trust can be earned back, but the other person has to want to make that happen and make an earnest and prolonged attempt. I don’t feel like this is going to happen, and I don’t feel like I deserve to be treated like a fixer-upper. I can go find someone who will be consistently nice to me. If I can’t find that person? Screw it. I have a cat and a PlayStation, and I can honestly say that I just don’t get excited about the idea of boys anymore. This isn’t to say that I’m becoming a lesbian, this is to say that I just don’t care. I don’t have the heart for it, and all of my heart’s strength is tied up in having to deal with house sellers who are bullshitting me and employers who wish that I would just go away. There’s just no more strength left after dealing with those things. Maybe, eventually, I’ll get the nerve and the brain worked out and be able to deal with the heart. Today is not that day.

No place like home,

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