So, yesterday was an exciting day, for values of exiting that include High Comedy and Sheer Terror. Though it was Wednesday, Anything did not happen. No, I’m wrong. Anything did happen. Just not the things I would have preferred to have happened.
Let’s see. . .we didn’t get an offer on the house yesterday. I would’ve liked that. At least, I think I would’ve liked that, but who knows, y’know? It would certainly have Clarified Things.
We did go to the bank to get pre-qualified. The bank’s idea of how much we can afford is. . . whoa, really, and in what alternate universe? This was to create problems, later in the day, but at the moment of pre-qualification, it was merely blackly amusing. It is to our credit that Steve and I managed to both look at the figure proposed by the bank and not burst into wild gales of laughter.
After the bank, we viewed that house we had liked, with advertency and utilizing a fine-tooth comb, and regretfully came to the conclusion that, no, it would not do, after all. We therefore move on to the next two on the short list.
When we came home, I made the mistake of actually looking at houses that the bank thinks we can afford. And, then, I made a very bad mistake, indeed.
I looked down.
Anyone involved in the arts — from circus art, to music, to painter, potter, writer — will tell you that it is crucial to your mental well-being and to your art not to look down. Ever. Usually, I’m good with not looking down, because, hey, fiction writer, here. But, yesterday — I looked.
And the reality of my life kind of all rushed up and hit me in the face: how I don’t know how we’re paying our bills now, except that we do — it’s, yanno, magic, near enough, and it never does to scrutinize magic too closely, either. . .and how I can’t predict if I’m going to be able to pay my bills in future, and how the bank’s happy assumption that we’re going to continue to grow our earnings is simply. . .not the freelance reality, and, and. . .and!. . .And. . .
. . .let’s just say that, had I actually been climbing a tree at the time, I would have fallen, and Jimmy Bean would have had to run fetch Aunt Polly.
Who knew house hunting would be so VERY exciting?
I am today cleaning all of the old typescripts of the novels out of the file cabinets. We have more file cabinets than any sane couple of writers needs. Later this week, I intend to throw away the mountain of tearsheets from our days as reporters/reviewers/photographers.
Here’s what the pile of novel typescripts looks like:
I will also, later this week, be setting up a Patreon account, for Mozart, mostly, so that his many fans and well-wishers may do as seems reasonable to them. Watch this space for more information.
And I think that catches us up for the moment.
Here, have a picture of Sprite and Trooper, overlooking the birds at the feeder. Sprite is taller than her dad, now.
Today’s blog title comes to you courtesy of the late JJ Cale. Here’s your link.
