So, after my ABJECT FAILURE to find us a house… whenever that was that I last went to Utrecht (longer ago than I can remember, which means not yesterday or the day before), DrBob set up another appointment with Makler Matt (I’ve decided to call him Makler Matt because it makes me giggle), and he may have found something. I’d love to post a link here so y’all can see what it looks like, but the link contains the actual address, and we might one day move in there, and what if I were to get a stalker at some point? So if you want to see the pictures, let me know and I will email you the link if I am pretty sure you are not a stalker. Continue reading
Monthly Archives: June 2009
Of course 8 of 9 Supreme Court Justices would find that strip-searching a 13-year-old girl is inappropriate, and you just know that the one dissenting voice would be that of Clarence Thomas. Hey, at least he’s upfront about being a pervert…
…No. No, I can’t even admire that. What a freaking sleazeball.
Song du jour of the day: oh, something by Rick James.
YES, the governor who refused federal stimulus money to put South Carolinians back to work, because it’s socialist (yeah, socialist like the U.S. Highway system?) and helping people is somehow un-American, is now up to something else! Not only is he an… um, a very bad person (just in case my niece still reads this blog), he is also DUMB AS A BAG OF HAMMERS. Seriously how could anybody be dumb enough to do something like this NOW?
Okay, if this doesn’t end his career, then South Carolina really does deserve its Miss Teen USA contestant.
Song du jour of the day: Ack! I can’t think of anything! The Stupid! It’s got meeeeeeaagh!
ETA: He skipped Father’s Day for this. Howzat for family values?
DrBob is invited to the Spanish Embassy in The Hague, for King Juan Carlos’s name-day this Wednesday, and I don’t get to go. Boo.
Song du jour of the day: Baila el ChikiChiki, by Rodolfo Chikilicuatre.
We’ve had three sets of people come look at the house in the last three days. Egad, we’re going to be landlords. Landlord and landlady? Landpeople? Whatever. The mind boggles. I think DrBob is having an identity crisis, he seems to think he’s crossing over to the Dark Side. I haven’t yet pointed out that he probably already did that when he became a professor. We have met the Establishment, and he is us. Continue reading
Well, that was fun! Let’s never do it again!
It wasn’t actually nearly as horrible as I was expecting, probably because I complained so much about how horrible it was going to be that my family felt obligated to participate too. We arrived early enough, found a shady spot (love! Germans! for planting chestnut trees in every open space they happen across – or is that a Bavarian thing?), and sold off all the good stuff in the first half hour – we later figured out that we’d sold it to other flea marketeers who were going to turn around and sell it for way more. Whatever. As long as the stuff isn’t my responsibility any more, I’m happy. Continue reading
Well, we did the plan, I met the real estate agent (henceforth known as M) on Monday and looked at houses and chose three and went back with DrBob on Wednesday to look at those three plus one more that M hadn’t been able to get an appointment for on Monday, and…
Weird smell. Poor resale value. Not enough rooms. Not enough rooms. Continue reading
So today there was a party for my in-laws’ 50th (!) wedding anniversary – fifty! Years! Wow. And now the kids are in Jagenau with them, and I’m getting ready to leave for the airport. Again I have planned a super-short trip to Utrecht, I swear I will not get the chance to just enjoy being there until we’ve actually moved.
I get in late tonight, and tomorrow morning I meet our wonderful real-estate guy, who will show me um, as many houses as he can get appointments for on that day, I guess. We’ll pick out the best three or so, and show them to DrBob on Wednesday (because he flies in late Monday afternoon, and on Tuesday he’s booked solid with stuff relating to his actual job). Then I fly home at a wretchedly early hour on Thursday, only to wait at the airport for three hours until his flight comes in, so that my FIL only has to do one airport pick-up for the day. It’s okay, I have my knitting.
So. I have three days to find a house. But, you know, no pressure or anything. Gah.
Song du jour of the day: Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, Falling or Flying.