This Is Your Brain While Moving

Ok, I lied. This is MY BRAIN while moving, or "moving brain" as it is known in certain regions of the Southern half of...oh never mind. At any rate, moving does this to my brain:

Me - "OH! I FORGOT!!"
My gal - "What did you forget?"
Me - "I forgot...I forgot..."
My gal - "You forgot what?"
Me - "I forgot...ummmm...I forgot...ummmmm..."
My gal - "What!?!?"
Me - "I forgot what I forgot."

Anyway, I have not made it totally back from internet banishment. We now have internet at the house. I just don't have access to it because my computer is expensively broken for the third time in just a few months.

I'd like to complain bitterly at this time about how much it still costs even WITH a warranty, but I try and keep this blog as bitterness free as possible.

So...this is just to say that my slow responses and lack of reading have had as much to do with computer problems as with moving.

Well, that and try not to get anything fixed at Microcenter at all. Ever. Because you will be trapped in warranty hell for the rest of your born days. Except I thought you only went to hell after you were dead. But not at Microcenter. Aparently.

Socksville

Hello folks and sorry for the long absence, but internet has been a long time coming to the new digs. We are semi-moved in, meaning we are here, our crap is here, but much of it is still in boxes and unavailable.

As in my last move, I learned a lot. Some of which I actually relearned from my last move (that I own a heck of a lot of crap, for instance) but some of which was totally news to me.

For instance you know how when you look in your sock drawer and it seems like one sock from each and every pair has abandoned ship? And you know how some people say that the wayward socks got caught between the agitator and the tub when you put them in the wash and that's where they all go?

That explanation always sounded plausible to me, but I found out that the sock-caught-in-washing-machine-explanation is urban myth. I know this for certain because I found out exactly what happens to the missing socks of our nation.

This is it: my son has stolen all your socks, folks! It's true! He snuck into your sock drawer and stole more socks than you can shake a stick at. Then he distributed them all over our former apartment.

I'm talking ALL OVER! I'm talking like when you're camping and you lift up a rock and you are just about flat out guaranteed to find a creepy crawly underneath, that's how assured I was of finding a sock under any and every object I picked up to pack up to cart off to the new place. I'm talking if they had been spread out instead of balled up and hidden under various objects, we could have used them as wall to wall carpet.

So I apologize on behalf of my boy for the missing socks folks. And if you'll just give me your mailing address I'll make sure and send them back postage paid...in fact, while you're at it if you'll just put down your phone number and social security number and date of birth and...

KIDDING!!! I'm not really sending back the socks. But I will post pictures of the new place once I find out in which cardboard box my brain is packed. And also, you can all rest peacefully assured that I will be much more vigilant in the monitoring of our household socks from here on out.

But the Rich Are Enjoying the Mildew

It rained last week for the first time since the hurricane, prompting this headline in The Houston Chronicle:

"Rain Adds Urgency to Roof Repairs in Low-Income Areas"

Because people with mediocre or above incomes LOVE water all over their stuff!!!!! Yeah.

I understand that it's a whole 'nother level of desperation if you have water coming inside and you can't even replace your now grungy bath towels. But seriously, I think even relatively well-to-do Houstonions felt a little more urgent about their roofs when that water began pouring in again.

I just got water all over the carpet though. It didn't get all over my stuff, because I got the room without a ceiling all cleared out.

According to the Houston paper there are now 200 people still missing in and around Galveston (200 people having been found and cleared from the list) 23 of which are missing from Bolivar:

"Authorities say they continue to believe many displaced Galveston Islanders and others are on the list in error. Those authorities are openly worried, however, about missing Bolivar Peninsula residents."

The paper doesn't exactly say WHY it's more productive to worry about the 23 from Bolivar rather than all 200. Perhaps worrying about 23 people seems like a more manageable task? One hundred seventy seven less gray hairs?

In other hurricane news (because I'm borderline obsessed, so it seems...either that or because there just happen to be a lot of photo ops), our street signs are a little more accurate than they were pre-hurricane.

There used to be more signs on my road warning of short silhouette people toting silhouette briefcases:
Because those silhouette people can be quite alarming and it's best to know in advance if you're going to encounter any on the road. You hardly ever run into (over over) any of those guys though.

With all the repair that's been going on, street signs are pretty low on the list of priorities. So now some of those signs don't actually warn of what's ahead. They just say "ahead":
Which is really more accurate, 'cause who the heck really knows what's ahead around here anymore? (Or anywhere else for that matter?)

'Cause You Probably Spend More Money If Your Brains Leak Out

I'd like to think that everyone is sick of hearing about Ike. But the fact of the matter is, Houston seems more or less ignored in the news, so the six people reading this are probably the only ones inundated (pun intended) with information about Ike.

I couldn't even find anything in Newsweek at all except this ONE SENTENCE in the Conventional Wisdom Watch section: "Galveston (down arrow) Ike wipes it out. But at least this time most people got out of the way."

Did they???? That's odd because around 300 people are still missing, and almost 30 died (including those that died trying to survive the aftermath) just in Galveston. I can not EVEN imagine why someone would stay on the island with a FOUR YEAR OLD when experts were predicting "certain death". But, y'know, whatever...I guess that doesn't really constitute a large portion of the population. Who knows.

Meanwhile there are still plenty of Houstonians without power (And ceilings. AND phone service!!!!!!!!!!!!) So let's move on to subjects less likely to cause clinical depression, shall we?

Once upon a time I had to brave the Home Depot. There happened to be an employee stocking the shelves with drill bits. I'm not sure what exactly came over me, but since I was in fact looking for drill bits I got a wild hair and asked her for help.

First, she laughed at me for using my electric screwdriver as a drill. Hello! I live in an apartment. I'm not trying to do major construction here. I just hang a picture now and again!

Then she told me that sorry, no. There were no replacement drill bits, I would have to just buy a whole new electric screwdriver set. I thanked her, turned away and practically bumped into a display of the exact type of drill bit that I needed.

The moral of the story is this: giant warehouse department type stores are scary, scary places that suck out your brains if you stay in them too long.

Except for Target. There's still something to be said for Target. I'm not sure exactly WHAT though, because look at this sign on the door of the Sugar Land Target:See? Those people's brains have definitely leaked out all over the store.

It happens, by the way, that I am not among those who are without phone service. I got phone service back TODAY! A mere three weeks post-Ike! So, y'know...just a ceiling here any ole' time and I'll be all set.

How to Buy a House

First off, try and make certain the economy is in total turmoil. A mortgage crisis is not totally necessary but it's a nice touch.

See if you can get the closing date on Rosh Hashannah, one of the most celebrated Jewish holidays of the year.

Then, arrange for the biggest hurricane to hit your area in 50 years to plow through 18 days before the closing date. Check and see if the house is still there.

Once bankers, mortage people and all interested have reached optimum panic, have them appraise the house. Make sure they find it lacking by at least $15,000. This step should only be performed AFTER turning in notification to vacate your appartment and calling for utitilities to be hooked up, preferably less than one week before closing. This is crucial to maintaining stress levels.

Have the closing date postponed to an undetermined time in the distant or not so distant future. Go to morning services on what would have been closing day.

Make certain to turn off your cell phone during services. This is just common sense not to mention common courtesy, but you also want to make certain you are totally unreachable in case the mortage company wants to spring a surprise closing on you THAT DAY.

Skip afternoon services in order to spend three and a half hours signing papers.

Tell seller not to worry about showing up before the end of banking hours. As it turns out, title companies are more than happy to stay open hours late, perhaps due to the current economy. Make sure the seller (who is having all types of simlar fun at his own closing) knows there is no rush to get there before the place closes and the contract has past its date.

Find out at 8:00 at night that the seller just signed and the house is yours.

Yeah. Forget all that. Actually, just pick out a house and see if your boyfriend will buy it. By the way, did I mention I'm moving?