Today, I’ve gone exotic. I’m writing you from Grammy’s chair, which I hardly ever sit in. Edsel sits in it a lot. It’s sort of his chair. The cats also sit in it a lot. In fact, I’m sitting on the little throw I’ve placed on the cushion to catch the majority of the fur, thereby negating the point of putting the throw there.
Anyway, I’m goin’ ham.
I have a coworker who brings the same lunch every single day: peanut butter sandwich, tortilla chips and a glass of water in his depressing John Deere clear glass cup. I wrote him on our work messaging system a few months ago to ask if, now that he’s home, he still has that same damn lunch. Answer: pretty much, yeah.
But a few times a year, like maybe three times, he’ll be Mama Cass and bring a ham sandwich. His kids call it “goin’ ham.”
That’s me today. Goin’ ham in the unusual chair.
I got nothin’ to tell ya, really. I came close to refinancing my house this week but there was a snafu with the agent telling me I had to pay up front for an appraisal. “It’s $500,” she said.
Lemme ask you something. Do you just have $500? I don’t. I mean, I can pay all my bills, and maybe get something fun for myself for like $30 or $40 each pay period, like my tarot t-shirt that I love.
I don’t think it was fully $40 but you know what I mean. Also, OH MY GOD I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT’S FROM. Instagram advertised it to me one day, because Instagram knows me like no one ever has, and I said, YES!! and bought it. The end.
Anyway, I did not have $500, maybe because I blow $40 each pay period on satanic t-shirts, which is what I told the woman at my mortgage company who was trying to convince me to refinance for 1.67% less of an interest rate.
“I’ll have $500 on Friday, but I do not right now,” I emphasized. She said that was fine, that she just needed my card “on file” and that once the appraisal people called and we made an appointment, THEN they would charge me.
“As long as that’s the case, OK, cause I just don’t have it now,” I said, getting my card and wondering how I was gonna live for the next two weeks minus $500.
It was seriously not 10 minutes later I got an email.
Oh my god, I was mad. So I canceled the whole shebang in a strongly worded letter. “This is not some $11 app I’m buying that might be shady,” I said. “We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. If I can’t trust you from the get-go, why should I trust you with all that money?”
I was worried about the appraisal people coming over anyway. Did you ever get the up-and-down look from a bitchy gay man? That’s how I figured they’d look at me. And they’d be all, “Why is this house pink? Are you expecting Hansel and Gretel?”
“Were you going to keep those birthing hips for a whole decade after menopause, or what, honey? Cause you may be berthing but you ain’t birthing.”
Now I’m starting to like my imaginary bitchy appraiser.
So that’s off, although I understand that I can look for another refinance institution in the next 14 days because my lovely credit score already took the dang hit. But I don’t know. 1.67%? Why bother?
In other news that’s house-related, and here I told you I had no news but LOOK. I’m SOAKING in it.
Yesterday I got an Amazon package and that is nothing new. I get about 47 hundred of those a week. I get my vitamins from Amazon, pet stuff from Amazon (mostly Chewy. But also Amazon), cleaning supplies from Amazon. I’m an Amazon woman.
So I ripped it open, just like it was your bodice.
And there? Was fishing stuff.
“Hope you catch a big one, Rick! Happy birthday!”
I looked about. Had I changed my goddamn name to Rick again? Stupid multiple personalities.
I wish I could get another personality and it would actually be likeable. And then you all could check in in your ripped bodices and see which one you get that day: likeable June or me.
Anyway, I stood in my kitchen with a Jethro Bodean expression for awhile and
The guy who used to own this house, the guy who lived here for almost 60 years, is named Richard. Someone musta had this address on file at the Amazon.
So I called him and I forgot what a perfect Southern gentleman he is.
“Yes. Hello, Richard, this is June Gardens, the person who bought your house?”
“Well, hello, June! My goodness! Hope you’re well.”
Actually I forgot the best part. At the beginning, I said, “Yes, is this Richard Pinkhouse?”
And he said, “What’s left of him.”
This is going to be my go-to line from now on.
Anyway, he’s coming over today at 1:00 to get his fishing birthday present and I guess I ruined that surprise. Of course I’m nervous he’s gonna see things on the house that have gone to ruin in his absence, as he ran a tight ship and I’m berthing, but really I’ve kept it up pretty well.
I will close with a charming image I just happened to capture this morning. It’s a sweet moment with Eds and Fo.
From her pink house,