Thursday, July 05, 2007
Red Letter Day
Today, I bought a condominium. It's almost as surprising to me as it is to you.
I took the day off from work and drove to Winchester for the closing. I kept on thinking that something would go wrong. On my way out the door, I saw a giant envelope from Bank of America. I examined the contents and decided that these documents had a 50/50 chance of being pertinent. I fell back on the knowledge that I had emailed the bank, the lawyer, and the realtor several times, asking if there was anything else I needed to do before closing. They said "no", so I had to trust them at this point. Long story short, I signed a million pieces of paper and now I own a condominium.
After the closing, Irf and I took rare advantage of attending the Diva lunch buffet. All the delicious Indian food you can eat for $10. We were two of four diners in the entire restaurant. Twice, maybe three times, waiters came over to our table and asked us what kind of bread we would like.
"Naan, please."
"Plain?"
"Yes, please."
That's how the conversation went each time. Never was any bread delivered to our table. We came to the conclusion that the waiters were just curious what type of bread we would like, but not intent on bringing said bread to the table.
After that, I met my parents at Jordan's Furniture, which is basically half amusement park, half furniture store. If you're not careful while looking at couches, you could end up accidentally watching an IMAX movie or flying from a trapeze. Seriously, they have trapezes. My parents agreed to buy me a bed, which was very nice of them. I ponied up for the headboard and then we went to look at expensive furniture that I might eventually buy against all sensible financial impulses.
After dinner, I met up with Irf again and hit the Diesel Cafe for some reading and writing. As we looked around for seats, we complained about how we could never get a booth...recalling one time -- ONE TIME -- that we had ever managed to sit in the
coveted Diesel Cafe booths. Irf went up front to get some juice and I told him I'd be up front in a minute. On my way up, I saw it like a brilliant blinding light from heaven: an open corner booth. Our books/bags/etc were all still at the table in back, but there was no time to get them. I dove into the booth like I was playing a one-man game of musical chairs, then sat there like an idiot. Irf became confused that I had not come up to the front of the restaurant, but was instantly excited when he saw that I had landed us some premium Diesel Cafe real estate. We reveled in our rare find until closing time.
A condo, a bed, a buffet, and a booth at Diesel Cafe. Truly a red letter day.
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I took the day off from work and drove to Winchester for the closing. I kept on thinking that something would go wrong. On my way out the door, I saw a giant envelope from Bank of America. I examined the contents and decided that these documents had a 50/50 chance of being pertinent. I fell back on the knowledge that I had emailed the bank, the lawyer, and the realtor several times, asking if there was anything else I needed to do before closing. They said "no", so I had to trust them at this point. Long story short, I signed a million pieces of paper and now I own a condominium.
After the closing, Irf and I took rare advantage of attending the Diva lunch buffet. All the delicious Indian food you can eat for $10. We were two of four diners in the entire restaurant. Twice, maybe three times, waiters came over to our table and asked us what kind of bread we would like.
"Naan, please."
"Plain?"
"Yes, please."
That's how the conversation went each time. Never was any bread delivered to our table. We came to the conclusion that the waiters were just curious what type of bread we would like, but not intent on bringing said bread to the table.
After that, I met my parents at Jordan's Furniture, which is basically half amusement park, half furniture store. If you're not careful while looking at couches, you could end up accidentally watching an IMAX movie or flying from a trapeze. Seriously, they have trapezes. My parents agreed to buy me a bed, which was very nice of them. I ponied up for the headboard and then we went to look at expensive furniture that I might eventually buy against all sensible financial impulses.
After dinner, I met up with Irf again and hit the Diesel Cafe for some reading and writing. As we looked around for seats, we complained about how we could never get a booth...recalling one time -- ONE TIME -- that we had ever managed to sit in the
coveted Diesel Cafe booths. Irf went up front to get some juice and I told him I'd be up front in a minute. On my way up, I saw it like a brilliant blinding light from heaven: an open corner booth. Our books/bags/etc were all still at the table in back, but there was no time to get them. I dove into the booth like I was playing a one-man game of musical chairs, then sat there like an idiot. Irf became confused that I had not come up to the front of the restaurant, but was instantly excited when he saw that I had landed us some premium Diesel Cafe real estate. We reveled in our rare find until closing time.A condo, a bed, a buffet, and a booth at Diesel Cafe. Truly a red letter day.
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