Foundationhead

There is no such thing as a perfect house.

These cats live in a nice house. I hate them.

There is especially no such thing as a perfect house when you are buying in a market so hot your agent can't get you in to see listed properties even if they aren't technically under contract yet. It's just so damn hot out there your feet are sticking to the pavement because it's July in Texas.

But that's just how it was and the house we ended up buying had many imperfections (I already mentioned some) I overlooked in order to simply GET A HOUSE, ANY HOUSE.

Does it have doors? Windows? Is it currently on fire? Yes (narrow ones), yes (half new, half wtf these are old, might as well just be holes in the walls for all the air I can feel and have no screens?) No, not on fire.  Well, that was a plus!

My Day at DoPS Part II: Return to Bureaucracy Mountain

The last time I went to DoPS it was a freaking nightmare.  The experience is a nightmare for most people as I have come to learn.

The office opens at 8 AM and when I got there at 7:45 AM the line was already about 20-30 people long. One past review of this DoPS office I read online said the reviewer got there to wait at 6:30 AM and was like the tenth person in line. Basically, people camp out at this place like they are buying the new iPhone.

My Day at DoPS

Today my brother dropped me off at the Department of Public Safety (DoPS) so I could surrender my

Ohio driver license and get my Texas one. 

After about waiting two and a half hours with a bunch of either super grumpy people or people like me who were like: "Oh well! Let's make small talk with one another and try to be polite because this sucks." I was denied.

My Ohio license, birth certificate, SS card, paperwork from my Texas home loan/home ownership, and a city utility application combined were not good enough to prove identity and residency.

Insert that Saying by General Sheridan about "Renting out Texas-Live in Hell"

Hey ya'll! I'm in Texas! I've been here for two weeks and I WANT TO GO HOME TO

My cat Barney enjoying a dismantled bookcase.

CLEVELAND!

Ahem, excuse me, I'm still working through some feelings about this whole thing because it all happened very fast. Tom Petty once sang: "It took all winter to get through the summer." I know exactly what he means.

Only thing I did wrong was stayed in Northeast Ohio a day too long

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you develop a taste for sauerkraut.

This is the Flats, right? I mean I live here but like I'm not a tourist.

You know you've been in Ohio too long when athletes start getting pulled over in your neighborhood. (No, not Johnny but he wasn't that far away either.)

You know you've been in Ohio too long when Timofey Mozgov is on your flight into Cle.

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you start referring to "Cleveland" as "Cle."

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you start calling soda "pop," a hit & run a "hit & skip," and a barbeque "a cookout."

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you write a parody for the Browns.

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you go to a bar in another state and wonder where the wall of TVs all tuned to sports channels is hiding.

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you can just tell someone's cornhole boards and bags are not regulation.

You know you've been in Ohio too long when you decide you can handle a move to Texas.

Yes, you read that last one correctly! David and I are bound for Texas this year! His job is moving him again!

Stay tuned for "Ohiofornia: or what happens when an insane So-Cal girl gets married, moves from the West Coast to the North Coast, and looks at it all through black designer sunglasses. Now featuring Texas!"

Respect the Frock, Tame the Garment

Right now I am in the middle of a massive spring clean. The focus is my closet (the three out of four

You can't see my face but I assure you I'm exasperated!

in the house I dominate) because I am clotheshorse.

We use the term "clotheshorse" in our society because of the image it evokes: a smartly-dressed woman sitting on the floor of a well-organized walk-in closet. She is surrounded by shopping bags, her mouth is agape but mirthful, her eyes are wide as she coyly looks to the side. She is dangling a high-heeled shoe from her forefinger. She is just exasperated by her good taste! Or maybe her mouth is open in a scream because she is about to drive that shoe into her brain to escape crippling credit card debt.

We should really just use the word "hoarder" but we don't like the images that evokes. Those are scary images you don't buy at the mall. It's an image of me trapped under the weight of a thousand leopard print cardigans in varying color palettes for variety, duh.