Category: default || By jt3y

Actually, it should look like $63,900, plus various closing costs and fees, but who's counting?

Well, besides the bank.

The important thing, of course, is that it looked like $63,900 to the appraisers, even though it was assessed at slightly less; no doubt the solicitors for the school district and local municipal government are already licking their chops, ready to pounce as soon as the sale clears the county courthouse. (Like most predators, they can smell blood from miles away.)

I can't wait until the assessment goes up; I plan to hitch my pants up around my armpits, write out my remarks on a piece of torn-up notebook paper, and deliver them in a trembling voice at the next school board meeting: "I don't have any kids in school! Why should I have to pay school taxes! These lousy teacher unions! Why back in my day, teachers worked for two chickens and three scoops of coal a month, and they liked it! And why do these kids need teachers, anyway!" Etc.

So, in short, as of noon Thursday, I am officially a Home Owner. Or, more accurate, a mortgaged home user for the next 30 years. In 30 years, when I'll be ... erp. Never mind.

I apologize for the lack of updates yesterday; I actually tried to log on once, but couldn't get a connection from the company that provides my dial-up service (I think it's Can & String Telecom Inc.), and was so busy that I didn't try again.

I could do a "tick-tock" on the whole day, but my hands are still tired from signing paper after paper after paper, and frankly, it's not that interesting. Early morning walk-through at the house, run to the bank, run to the real-estate agent's office for the closing, run back to the house, go inspect some furniture, etc., etc., etc. In between I found time to go to the florist, the funeral home, and an assisted living facility to visit an old friend. I took a day off of work, naturally; frankly, I'll be happy to go back to work (I need the rest, haw haw haw).

There are crazies in the world, so I'm not going to say exactly where the house is; it's in the Mon-Yough area, though not actually in Our Fair City. (You'll be able to find out in few days from the Recorder of Deeds office, of course.) I can see Our Fair City from the house, however. Suffice to say I wanted to move a little closer to where I work, and buying in Our Fair City would have added significantly to my commute.

Being a natural-born klutz, it only makes sense that I've already sustained my first injury in the new house. Let the record show that it happened at 12:55 p.m. yesterday; a friend took me to lunch after the closing, and then I took him on a quick tour.

The kitchen range is one of those older Tappan jobs with chrome eyelets on the cooktop where you can inspect the pilot lights. My friend said, "Hmm. Your pilot light is out."

"Really?" I said, and set my middle finger down on the eyelet --- neatly burning a perfectly round circle into my fingertip and letting loose a stream of profanity (my first stream of profanity in the new house!).

"I meant the other pilot light, dumbass," my friend said. "You do know there are two pilot lights, right?"

Uh, sure ... I knew that. Luckily the previous owner had left some ice cubes in the freezer (along with something that I truly hope he was planning to feed to his dogs).

The fellow from whom I bought the house was a nice guy; he almost forgot his fishing tackle but retrieved it during the final walk-through. I noticed that he didn't take down a large picture of The Three Stooges that was hanging in the bedroom.

"Do you want your Stooges back?" I asked at closing.

"Nah, they're for you," he said. "For good luck."

"Besides," he added after a beat, "my girlfriend will kill me if I take them to the new place. She was tired of the Three Stooges staring at her."

This weekend looks to be a busy one. The house is in pretty good shape, but needs a thorough cleaning --- you'd be surprised what might be lurking under your couch, especially if you have light-colored deep-pile carpets --- so the shop vac will get a workout. And I'll need to find a carpet shampooer.

Then it will be time to start moving my years of assorted detritus --- some of which is still packed up from the last move --- into the new house. And buying some freaking furniture, unless I plan to sleep on the floor.

A few quick questions for the crowd: I had to have a certified check for the closing costs. From what I could tell, getting my check certified involved having the local bank teller call the home office, her asking if there was enough money to cover the check, and then stamping my check with the word "CERTIFIED."

And then they charged me $20. Just how expensive is one of those stamps?

Another question: The municipality has two separate wage tax collectors --- one for the town, and one for the school district. Combined with the current municipality where I live, I'll get to fill out three local wage tax forms next April. Plus, I'll have to send quarterly payments to two different agencies. Could they make the process a little more aggravating?

Well, it looks like my weekends, and evenings, just got a little more busy, so don't be too disappointed if Almanac entries get somewhat shorter for the time being. I guess this is a good time for me to start looking for more freelance work, too --- that first mortgage payment is already looming.

Someone remind me again: What's so great about being responsible, anyway?