Freakonomics in action

I'm selling my condo and I didn't get a real estate agent. Buying into the theory that "I can do it myself and get more money," I placed the condo on the market last Friday with a listing agent who just charges a simple fee to put the place on the MLS and Realtor.com. I did my research and then added $10,000 to the listing price. What the hell? What do I care?

I have not heard a peep from anyone since I listed it. Mountains of doubt, I felt that eerie panicked feeling that perhaps I was greedy and now I was going to be punished by having to pay $2100 a month out of my already empty pocket for this albatross (or Alcatraz, as my former boss once said to a crowd of 3,000) around my neck.

This morning I got a call from Rita Realtor who commented that, although I wasn't going to have a lock box on my door until NOVEMBER 14, could she show my place tomorrow?

I think the realtors are getting us back for reading Freakonomics.

Note to self:

If you are going to complain about how your husband stinks, wait until AFTER getting the little blue box.

What happens on travel, stays on travel

It's an old addage by which we lived, back in the day when I was employed and known to go on TDY on occasion.

Tonight I received a phone call from my husband. He was in his hotel room getting ready to go to dinner. When I asked him where he was going for dinner (since I am living vicariously through him and my life is currently hell in my 72-hour stint as a single mother), he said that they were just going to the restaurant next to the airport hotel where they were staying. Now may I just start by saying that my husband is one of the funnest people and to be doing such a boring plan in a fab city is a waste.

K: I can't believe you guys aren't going to go back into town and get a real meal.
D: The food next door looks ok.
K: Does CoWorker just not want to go back out?
D: Well, I hinted that we should go back out a few times but he didn't bite.
K: Is CoWorker boring?
D: Well, (hemming and hawing because God forbid he ever say anything unkind about anyone) we are on East Coast time and we are tired.
K: You two got away from this hell hole and you are complaining about being tired. You can sleep when you are dead.
D: I know, but...
K: Is this because he just got married? It's not like I am suggesting you hit every girlie bar in the Pac Northwest. I'm just saying you could be having some amazing seafood downtown.
D: Maybe he is a little worried about it...
K: What does he think is going to happen? He's going to go to a bar and spontaneously have sex with someone without even realizing it is happening because that's what used to happen in the old days? Yeah, right. I so don't understand these kind of people.

When I relayed this story to my sister a few hours later, I complained about all those people on travel that didn't make the most of it. So what if you are dead tired. You aren't home, you don't have to cook dinner, and no one will wake you up in the middle of the night, crying, crying, crying.

My sister asked me what travel was for me.

It's all about the karaoke. You would be surprised how many beers it takes for the trifecta to appear--ABBA, Cher and Heart.

But, as we all know, what happens on travel, stays on travel...

The powers that be

After a relatively sleepless night with the Offspring, I woke to the repeated rap of the knocker at the front door. There stood my very sweet neighbor.

N: Mami, the power went out. Could you please turn it back on?

Some of you are thinking, "Why are the inhabitants of Chateau Cookie providing power for the neighbors?" It's an excellent question, and one that I now find myself asking myself.

10 days ago, the male half of my neighbors came over with a sob story about how the guys working on the construction of his McMansion made a slight error and cut his power lines to his basement, where he is living until they complete the 7 bedroom monstrosity above him. Could we please run a power cord out our window until the power got turned back on when the weekend was over? "No problem," said we. When we politely slipped the "power situation" back into the conversation the following week, there were more excuses about why they couldn't turn the power on just yet.

About three days ago, they came knocking on our door, asking us to reset the breaker because the power had gone out. Derek went downstairs to find that the power strip had blown out. He rerouted the wire and the neighbors were back in business, with promises of getting their own power that day. Not two hours later, they were back with the same request. This has continued for the past three days.

D: So what do you think is going on over there?
K: Honestly?
D: Yeah.
K: I think they are getting balls-y. I think they started out by using the cord for a lamp and an alarm clock. Now I think they are realizing the gold mine they have found and are trying to plug in the microwave, a big screen tv, a heater and possibly a refridgerator.
D: You think?
K: I think we are going to have a $1700 electric bill next month.
D: No way.
K: Right now they are over there trying to figure out how to get us to provide power to the entire 10 bedrooms once the construction is over.

But I was wrong. When I threw the switch to get the power back on in the basement this morning, I heard the JACK HAMMER power up. I threw off the light and down went the jackhammer. I flipped the switch back on and there was the jack hammer.

Even worse, we are now providing power for them to build their house that will make our house look like the neighborhood ghetto house. I'm thinking $1700 is optimistic.

Baby's first sushi

I'm supposed to be upstairs, helping Derek pack for his business trip tomorrow. His business trip to SEATTLE (one of my favorite places) on our anniversary. I think if he had more than 3 days notice and I wasn't so sassy, he may have taken me.

So we ended up going out to dinner tonight since I will be all alone (but let's not forget that, after having a child, I will NEVER REALLY BE ALONE AGAIN) for our anniversary. Did I mention Derek is going away and leaving me? Alone, with this child. The shrieking madman? Anyway, we decided to go for sushi.

There we were, giving E his first Tuna Sashimi. It was at that moment that I was so proud. My little Boo Boo Kitty, eating sushi like a big boy. Except he kept throwing his chopsticks on the floor and trying to drink Derek's beer. Come to think of it, that makes him a boy.

For all those about to get up in arms about the mercury dangers of infants eating tuna, let me just say that I don't care. I know I'm horrible.

Now I have to go iron a shirt. Renee, keep your mouth shut!

There's a little Vanna in all of us

E: BAH, BAAHHHHHHH, BAAAAAHHH (intensifying exponentially)
K: Babe, I think he is saying that he wants 'boo.' I haven't fed him in 5 hours.
D: You think he is saying 'boo'? Buddy, are you saying 'boo'?
E: BAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
K: I really think he is asking for 'boo.'
D: Buddy, I think you need to buy another vowel.