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100 Things About Me
The Bull's Testicles Project
Russia Trip: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Best of 2002: Movies, Books, Music.
Best of 2003: Movies.
Best of 2004: Movies, Books.
Best of 2005: Theater, Books.
Best of 2006: Theater, Books, Television.


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Tuesday, July 08, 2003

Junio Joins the Bourgeoisie
When exciting but time-consuming events happen to some bloggers, they react by upping their posting frequency. Hour-by-hour updates allow us to thrill along with their arrest, their detention, their trial, and their surprise acquittal. Other, lazier, bloggers such as me decrease their already lame-assed posting rate when a big life event comes along. And so you can expect even fewer entries in the next few weeks, because just last week R and I made an offer on a house … and the offer was accepted.

How do people go through this and still manage to get to work? (And let’s face it, this isn’t a good time to blow off paid employment and thus jeopardize your mortgage-paying mechanism.) There’s so much to do—I imagine all that money-moving will be taken care of soon, but then there’s the whole hideous business of packing. As I’ve told everyone who has helpfully offered packing tips and advice, it’s not the packing—that’s no fun, but it’s a discreet task that you can get through pretty easily if you grit your teeth and keep the TV tuned to something trashy—it’s the sorting. R and I are both the kind of gals who can’t bear to throw anything away—even if it’s junk. Part of this is our old friend laziness—ach, why deal with it when you can just put it in a box/bag/pile and shove it in the back of the closet—but once you’ve let the boxes/bags/piles build up, the prospect of dealing with them is unthinkable. I’m tempted to follow my pal Moira’s advice and just move them over to the new place. When there’s more space, perhaps I’ll realize I need all those old copies of the New York Review of Books after all.

The best thing about the whole house-buying process so far has been forcing myself to watch the Home & Garden channel. At first it was hard because I had no idea what they were talking about—WTP’s a banquette?—and all those earth tones were a bit overwhelming. Now I’m a pro—I can already predict with some degree of accuracy which of the three Designers’ Challenge candidates will get the nod (either the campest or the most homely—bad moustaches and foreign accents are a turnoff, but all the designers seem to have porn names), and I have a talent for guessing which member of the “design team” on Design on a Dime will be the first to reach for a can of spray paint (answer: whoever gets the first “solo”).