The Roof. The Roof. The Roof is on Fire.

Well, I didn't get much in the way of replacing the fill valve on the toilet done tonight. I wound up hanging out with some of my fantastic neighbors - and met a new one - when another neighbor seems to have gotten really intoxicated and set his own house on fire.

It's gonna be THAT kind of summer.

Plotting New Year's Resolutions

So I'm actually planning on making New Year's Resolutions this time around. Generally I'm pretty dismissive of the concept and see them as "promises you make in order to break." But, I'm going to try and do them publicly, as most people resolve to do, in order to get held to them.

So, I present "Vague First Draft of New Year's Resolutions"-- and if I say "I", I mean "Me." When I say "You," I generally also mean "Me." It's like "The Royal We" so just go with it.

1) Blog regularly again because it brought you a lot of enjoyment. When you sit around and think "I really should post something" for most of the month of December, while other things are going on, maybe that's your brain saying "Shut up and go type."

2) Secure a greater source of income. I took a lot of paid time-off this year. I didn't really realize how much until I realized I made less this year than I have the last 2. This is not good. I don't care how lousy the friggin' economy is either, MY economy has to improve.

3) Return to the routine that involved going to the gym four to five times a week -- or even once, as you're paying for it. Sure you travelled, sure you had things going on, but -- when a commitment is made (Financially *ahem*) then you really have to stick to it. Bite the bullet, revisit the personal trainer, and get back on the stick. Remember: don't be ashamed you failed, be ashamed you didn't try again.

4) Get all the boxes of files organized and the junk thrown out. There's a lot of junk I got through back in April when I put the house on the market, but too many things still wound up in boxes in the basement. Considering last go round I found pay stubs from the 90's (four moves ago), who knows what evil still lurks in the heart of my clutter?

5) Communicate with friends and neighbors more.This includes getting re-involved at ACRNAlumni.com (My fab neighbors especially. They're all really great and I feel like I never talk to them enough.)

6) Take more pictures and Flickr more - that's another thing you were really enjoying. Also, can't convincingly convince people to post naked for you without a legitimate body of work... (kidding... or am I?)

7) Make a list of new books to read while you spend the year reading all the books you've purchased that you haven't read yet (this WILL take a year). I have "A Peoples' History of the United States" and "Guns, Germs, and Steel" still collecting dust... yet I found time to read "Cross Country" by James Patterson. There's something here that brings great shame to my people.

8) Spend less on frivolous things. As I look around my office I realize that while the Beethoven bobble-head was a gift, I did buy myself a Lava Lamp at some point this year. This needs to stop...

9) Define what you find frivolous. The Lava Lamp gives me pleasure. The bobble-head is frivolous. I think frequently that I have too much clutter. Well, more to the point, I KNOW I have too much clutter. Let's clean house (why didn't I think of this when there was more than 3 days left in the tax year to get tax-deductible donations in to Goodwill?) and get all Zen-resolve-y about what I have and what I need.

10) Get the house re-listed and sold. I resolved the last two New Years that this was the year I would move. Let's make third time the charm, huh?

So there's ten resolutions and the list is subject to change and revision, but these are probably ten core ideas that have been bobbing around in my thoughts...

Is there a Real Estate "Ann Landers?"

I don't think there's any advice columnist or etiquette expert appropriate for this question, so I'll just throws it out there.

Is it a violation of the spirit of full disclosure about the house if I fail to mention that my neighbors include a couple of White Trasholes who have screaming fights at 1AM peppered with my street's favorite law-breaker, KeptBoy,* shouting "Motherfucker" and "I'm done with you" and BabyMama* sobbing "Don't you touch me again," which means you have to get up and call the cops because a crying woman is implying she's been manhandled in some way. There was also some very dramatic "Leap out of the truck while he's backing out of their flippin' driveway at what sure sounds like 60 mph" action.

Of course, I called the cops. I'm not going out there. Too many other anecdotes ago I decided this would not be a good idea. I think it was the first drunken fistfight KeptBoy had with his friends... no, it wasn't the fistfight it was the recent gunfire that my neighbor Troy swears he heard on one of the last big "Fight Nights," so unless you're armed you wouldn't have gone out either. I don't have to be proud of not physically intervening, but I didn't.

After re-reading all that, I know what you're thinking... "Why would he possibly want to sell his house on this bucolic-sounding street? Why, it's a little wedge out of a tasty Apple Pie of pure Americana!"

Yet I do. I do.

*the names "KeptBoy" and "BabyMama" can be explained another time.

An Update Update

I have a showing of the house scheduled for Saturday afternoon! The realtor's office called today to run it by me. Shockingly I agreed to it- you'd think I was trying to sell a house or somethin'. Now i get to go out back and do the weeding I put off like a dumbass when the weather wasn't 88 degrees with 49% humidity.

Let's hope that A) Drunken Asshole doesn't decide to swing by on Saturday and B) the kept boy next door stays off his drum kit.

(I wonder if this showing has anything to do with my posting the house on Zillow this morning with the realtor's contact information? Hmmm...)

-Also, 50 posts. 20 days of this. I'm evidently enjoying myself.

Broken Flowers, Drunken Assholes...

Just yesterday I took a couple pictures to show on my Flickr page just how much my flowers had grown over the last month. Tall. Healthy. Strong.

Then, today, I had the lovely pleasure of meeting a local drunken asshole named Bill...
***************

I was sitting at the computer and minding my own business around 1:30 or so
when there's a VERY loud, rapid pounding on my front door, immediately
followed by someone just LAYING into the doorbell.

I am completely irritated by this and, charged up, decided to get up and see what all the fuss was about.

On my porch was a drunk, unshaven, mostly toothless lout named Bill. He was drinking a Budweiser and carrying a Sav-A-Lot sack that looked to have at least 5 still-full beer cans in it.

"Can I help you?" I asked, and got "Come out and talk to me."

I repeated my questions and was told "I wanna buy the house, come out and talk to me."

Now, I was pretty sure there was no house buying to be had with this turkey. I was eventually surprised to discover he had a home - or at least claimed to. But,you don't want to be too rude, or rather, I'm trying really hard not to be a complete jerk who does things like call other drivers in traffic names that'd make a Merchant Marine blush... so I stepped out onto the porch.

I really tried to present the "look, I'm busy and really don't have time to talk" argument. Evidently I didn't sell it well enough. In return I got "What, you're too good to talk? If you wanna sell the house you'll come sit down and talk to me." I stood my ground as he rambled on about knowing Geneva, the woman who built the place.

According to Bill at one point he tried to fix her up with a friend of his, but she thought she was "too good fer 'im."

Gee, color me shocked to hear that...

He asked me what I wanted "fer the joint," and I told him the list price.

"Yew gotta be muthafuckin' kiddin' me! Yer fulla shit yew wan that!"

Okay, sport. I said "You know, so far you've pounded my door, interrupted my day, and insulted me. This is over and you need to leave." Pretty firm of me. I started to retreat inside.

"Oh really, you think this is over?" he barks as he (thankfully) started to shuffle away "Well I hope you're ready fer the tax man!"

"Excuse me?"

I couldn't believe this unwashed, drunken lout was threatening to bring the city down on me. It was actually pretty amusing, as I have that whole elitist deed and full set of teeth thing going on... and the chances of him actually being EMPLOYED, much less by the city are significantly slimmer than Tyra naming me "America's Next Top Model."

"oh, nuthin... I work fer the city." (well, my oh my, what a trump card!)

"Well my taxes are fine, now excuse me" I said and started to shut the door. Now I was worried. Not that I believed he could bring the power of the city down on me, but rather that I have now pissed off the neighborhood drunken asshole and my phone's clear the other side of the house should I want to call District 5.

He said "I jus wanned to talk about Geenie, tha's all, don' letcher dog out..."

This, god help me, stopped me as I was shutting the door. "I don't have a dog."

"Well whutever that is..." he said, gesturing at my cat.

I then said "Listen, I apologize for being rude, but really, I have things to get to..." and he responded with:

"No yer right, I curse like a fuckin' mutherfucker' but I jus new Geenie sooo
well and loved this house and my stepdaughter has a cat juslike
that, is name is Patches, yers looks jus like 'er cat yew ever see that cat
onna backa the Metro, looks just like yer cat but has a mustache, is a boy
cat, a boy Patches."

He then proceeded to tell me he owns the apartment block catty-corner to The Comet (great, a neighbor). He just had garage doors with "Winders" put in, and it cost him a "fuckin' fortune." He brought up that you sign too many forms doing mortgage and equity stuff. Evidently his lawyer is really good, since he calls him whenever he "jus killed this guy an' he's out on my sideway." His lawyer also has a stuffed Piranha on his desk.

Sadly, Bill also got offended last night by a guy named "Brent" who mistook him for a beggar (all together now, "Really?"). "Yew ever see a piranha?" Good ol' Bill has a neighbor who drives sports cars. This neighbor has a sign that reads "If you are what you eat, then I'm a Porsche."

You wouldn't know it but Bill and his son in law think that's great because if Bill is what he eats then he's a "Big Ol' Pussy."

(I couldn't quite bring myself to buy that one... go figure )

Piranha are also evidently "Nature's garbage disposal."

Anyhow, he was all twitchy and pacy, but at least he was off the porch for this rant. I was just happy I'd soothed the drunken jackass enough that I hopefully wouldn't have to worry about him coming back and throwing a rock through a window or anything. He finally took off and I was able to shut the door. A few minutes later I stepped back out on the porch, phone in hand to try and at least share the "oh my gawd you wouldn't BELIEVE what happened to me" anecdote with someone...

I didn't really realize that he must've been stomping into and out of the flowerbed while he was talking. But he had been -- either that or he came back and gave 'em a quick stomp when I shut the door. About three flower plants are just about completely crushed.

I am pretty annoyed. I'm trying to figure out if the possible loss of "Curb Appeal" is trumped by the anecdotal value of the drunken asshole impression I can whip out at the next 4 gatherings I'm at.

I watered them and will probably spray some plant food tonight and hopefully, just hopefully, they'll come back. Mostly I'd like to find me a lawyer with a piranha on his desk so I could call him and say "hey, I just kicked some toothless drunk guy's ass..."