condo

Keeping Things Interesting at the House of Larrie


Last night I got home early. Anything before midnight is early for me so that’s not much of an accomplishment, but I got home REALLY early: 5:30 p.m. Why so early? I didn’t have a soccer game; I didn’t go to the gym because Pete’s out of the country; I didn’t go to the coffee shop because I’m done with my summer class; I didn’t stay late at work because I was sick of sitting; I thought I’d see what it was like to get home BEFORE the sun started to set. And a surprise or two awaited me.

As I pulled into the Court that I live on, I usually cruise right past the first building, around the second one and park by the pool. However, last night, there was something going down in the first building. Obviously. With two squad cars and a Crime Scene truck parked out front, I almost pulled over right then and there to find out why the cops were hanging out in my complex. But, you see, that would be sticking my nose in other peoples’ business. So I went home, but by the time I parked in my spot, I had made up my mind that I was going to saunter back over there on foot and look into the situation.

Just in case I lost the courage to inquire, I brought my wallet with me and thought, “You could always just continue on your merry little way to the 7-11 for a Slurpee.”

But guess what, internet? I actually walked straight up to the two police officers who were talking (and laughing) outside one of the cars. Amazing, right? After reading yesterday’s entry, you were certain that I was too gutless to approach somebody all on my own, weren’t you? TAKE THAT. Here’s how the conversation went down:

LRE: Was somebody robbed?

COP1: No, it was a medical call. Do you live here?

LRE: Yep, that building right there.

COP2: Are you single?

They were profiling me and come on… can you blame them?

I then continued on and bought a Slurpee because it was 90+ degrees and that sounded nice.

Remember how at the start of this little blog entry I mentioned that there was a surprise OR TWO when I got home? That little discussion with the cops was number one and here comes surprise number two.

When I got back home with my Slurpee, Minyo greeted me at the door all demanding and needy. This is not typical. Usually Pogi requires all of the attention until I toss him and Minyo a few kitty treats and start making dinner or getting ready for bed. However, there was no little Pogi to run under my feet and hiss when I stepped on one of his paws. Strange.

I checked the litter box to see if he was working on some business back there. Empty.

I checked my bedroom to see if somehow he had opened the door and then shut it behind him. Empty.

I checked the bathtub to see if he had jumped in and tried to turn on the water. Empty.

I checked the bookshelf to see if he was hiding out behind any of my myriad of novels. Empty.

I checked under the couch and even in the coat closet. Empty.

I even opened the fridge. No Pogi.

Somehow, that little kitty ran out the front door when I left to chat with officers and I never saw him do it. Cats are sneaky, but not THAT sneaky. Clearly, I’ve lost my aware-of-streaking-white-furballs skills. So now I was out on the little porch area calling “kitty kitty.”

I used all of my tracking skills that I learned in one of the clubs I started with a cousin when we were little. It was prompted after reading a book about a Native American boy who tracked animals for food – or something like that. I’ve read so many novels, they all mix together in my head. Maybe it was actually prompted by one of the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novels where I chose to track a grizzly bear and ended up dead on page 126. Back to my Pogi tracking.

I had no clue where that little cat would run off to. So I walked a little towards my neighbor’s balcony area, but didn’t really want to walk in front of her sliding glass doors in case she was watching me being worried about a little kitty. It’s just a cat, right?

Just as I neared her front door, it started to open.

Great, I thought. Now she’s going to feel somewhat bad for me because I’ve lost this little kitty and remind me that at least I still have Minyo who doesn’t have claws with which to climb the shower curtain or the couch.

Surprise number two: she was holding Pogi.

My immediate thought: um, did she go into my place and pick him up because she wanted to play with him for a little bit?

Silly Larrie. Pogi did indeed sneak out when I left to investigate the cop situation and before long was crying by the front door. Sweet neighbor girl opened the door to see why the cat was being so loud and the little guy ran into the safety of her condo. She then called the real estate agent in the model home to see if he had my cell phone number and he told her that he just saw me walking back with a Slurpee in my hand.

We then exchanged cell phone numbers for any future cat crises.

When I meet new neighbors in my complex, after explaining which condo I live in, they always reply with, “Oh the one with the beautiful cats.” Yep, that’s me; Larrie the Cat Lady. Sweet.

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Currently Living Out of Boxes


I’m recovering from this weekend, but I’m quite certain it’s going to be a slow, long recovery judging by the numbers of boxes in my NEW CONDO. I swear, those boxes multiplied and replenished the 2nd bedroom while I was sleeping. One day, I anticipate that I will actually know where to find my toothbrush or the kitty’s medicine (one of the boxes ate the syringe).

Larrie is officially a homeowner

Well, make that a condo-owner.

According to Abe, “This place was small, but now it’s a home.”

Finally, I have my own home, even if there are many boxes raising families inside (I start charging rent in June) and pictures leaning against walls where they will one day hang. However, last night, my dad helped me to hang a fabulous and mightily large painting in the living room. I HEART my new place. Seriously.

Boxing for many hours

After closing with the title company on Friday, then grabbing some food at The Dodo with the parents and Maren, the boxing began. At first, I walked into my bedroom and began dancing around on a small footstool with my magic wand, but nothing would fly into the carpet bag on the floor. Turns out, I would have to MANUALLY LABOR to box all of my books and shoes. Eleven boxes later (sometime on Sunday night), the books were off the shelves and into little white boxes. Good thing I have a large bookshelf. One day, those same books will be OUT of those boxes and onto that large bookshelf. On that day, I shall celebrate.

I took a few breaks between boxing. I slept for a few hours on Friday night. I stopped by Jennie’s and Jarv’s new place Saturday morning to scrub the bathroom floor for a bit. I picked up the keys to my new place from the seller’s agent. Ooo, and I went to Lagoon. That was a fabulous break with Maren, Alaska and Joel-in-the-box. The Catapult, I’ll have you know, shoots you very high in the air. I told this to Joel, while we were shooting through the air. Just in case he hadn’t noticed:

“We are SO HIGH!”

By Monday morning, I had shut my last box, just a short time before Todd and Mary Lynn came with their trailer and Mick came with his Suburban. The rain was absolutely fabulous, too! I really wish that the next time I move, it rains on my mattress. It’s okay though, internet, because it was under the tarp while I “helped” James and Joel put it in the trailer. (I put the tarp on and followed them up the driveway. Good thing I work out and have such HUGE muscles.)

Speaking of muscles

Everything—table, chairs, couch, entertainment center, bookshelf, bed, dresser, shoes, books—was loaded in an hour. Clearly, I didn’t do that on my own. The moving crew showed up which consisted of brothers, my parents, their friends and a few friends from my ward (and Jon—who I didn’t forget, but the sentence was getting too list-y and wasn’t reading very smoothly, shucks). Thankfully, all of the muscles came to help.

Just try to imagine: I’m standing inside the dining area of my new home watching as four men are standing on the grass lifting the 6’x6’ bookshelf up over their heads, to the three men standing on my little balcony/porch to lift that same bookshelf over the railing, flip it, twist it and suddenly, it’s inside against the wall. IMPRESSIVE! Within an hour, my new home was filled with the “everything” mentioned earlier and the bookshelf AND entertainment center came in by being lifted up over the railing and in through the sliding door.

Sleeping in my own place

Minyo, Pogi and I slept in my new home last night. Correction: I slept a little bit; Minyo and Pogi investigated all the corners of this tiny new place. I am still in awe with how quickly everything was moved and quite grateful for the help of family and friends—especially the help of men with muscles. (Thanks Mom, Dad, Mary Lynn, Todd, Mick, Abe, Pete, James, Maren, Joel, Lindsey, Loni, David, and Jon!)

Crammed in Hiding with the Toys


Last night’s FHE revolved around playing Sardines. It’s the game of choice on Cinco de Mayo, I’ll tell you what. And what did it begin with? Otter pops, of course. (And Salsa, but that actually relates to the “holiday” so I’m not going to mention that.)

Kas started the sardines game by hiding first. While we were “counting” we had an impromptu sing-along to Elephant Love Medley. Alaska put Ewan McGreggor to shame. Truly. Oh, and Heather and I would easily outshine Nicole Kidman. Then the search for Kas began. There were only so many places to hide in the church as the chapel, bathrooms, baptismal font and basement floor were off-limits. And, of course, playing with wholesome Mormons, we knew nobody would cheat.

Before long, I heard giggling. Why does it seem so funny when a group of adults are hiding in the dark under stairs and tables stored in a dark corner of the stage? I don’t know, but the giggles made it easy to avoid being the last person to find everybody.

Adam found Kas first so he hid next. I kept seeing people looking for him on the ceilings. How would he manage that? Last I checked, he wasn’t spiderman… just one of the birdfish (although the other birdfish does have an uncanny resemblance to Peter Parker). Eventually, Joe found him in the kitchen and IF I’d been carrying my phone around with me, I would have been informed of this location via text shortly after the discovery. Instead, I wandered around by myself for a while feeling lonely.

NOTE TO SELF FOR ALL FUTURE SARDINE GAMES: KEEP CELL PHONE HANDY AND FRIENDS WITH TEXTING SKILLS HANDIER.

That concluded the sardines. So you see: nobody cheated, and nobody hid in a very tiny space which require a bunch of single adults to CRAM their bodies against each other. Probably good because being too close to somebody with Otter Pop breath would make me hunger for another Sir Isaac Lime.

On an unrelated note: The Evil Toy Taker has been foiled for only a short time as my closing date will be postponed to give them sufficient time to address all the must-haves I asked for in my inspection. Come on, people, how hard is it to put a P-trap on a furnace?

Condo Conundrum


I knew that the process of purchasing my own place wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. However, as the closing date nears, it’s becoming more complicated. The rising difficulties as the official date for signing my life (and Roth IRA) away looms nearer, could be viewed as a sign. How you interpret the sign determines whether it’s good or bad. First interpretation: the bumps in the road are only hinting at the sinkholes in the future. Second interpretation: the stormy conditions right now are only trying to scare me away before the smooth sailing to come. Could somebody please read my palms or pull out some tarot cards and tell me if it’s sinkholes or sunny weather to come? My departure from the Island of the Misfit Toys depends on this. Here are some of the bumps or stormy conditions:

  • A very messy bathtub–I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to bathe in a tub that’s lined with grimy black paint dumped in it after the rails outside were repainted.
  • A scratched up sink–who are these contractors that think it’s fine to scrub down a sink with steel wool? I’m not a very big fan of the aged-three-years look when it comes to brand new appliainces.
  • It’s possible that the shower is not properly sealed and mold is not my friend.
  • The walls are supposedly brand new so how come there are already places with chips and even a small hole from bedroom two to the kitchen?

The inspections deadline is today, but the sellers have asked that I reschedule it for tomorrow or Friday. I left a message with the realtor to send me an addendum. The contract that we both signed doesn’t say, Inspections deadline is 4/30 “or around there.” So if they don’t get back to me with an addendum today, do I hurry and put together a list of the above items from my “inspection,” and run away? Perhaps this is what I get for going with one of the cheapest condos in the area. You get what you pay for, no?

(If you haven’t been following my misfit toys tales, check here, here, here, here and here.)

The procrastination queen


I am currently trying to complete finals for my Tech Writing graduate classes. This requires designing a brochure for an imaginary store, Hot Tootsies (no, I did not pick the name), and writing a paper on how to design for the web for the other class. Both are due today. Ask me if they’re done.

Ha, clearly, you don’t know me. They’re not done. (If you guessed correctly that they weren’t even close to complete, you deserve a gold star, but I’ll only give you one for your forehead if you tell me that you guessed correctly.)

Did I do my homework over the weekend? Friday night there was a very important fashion show and movie to go to after going to the gym and doing some furniture shopping. Saturday , there was the first soccer game in MONTHS! that I had to attempt to play in followed by setting up a hammock in the backyard (I fell off), filling the hot tub, going to lunch with James, Maren, Kasi and Martha, hitting up the gym with Pete and James, more furniture shopping–this time with mom, then helping out at Mick and Tracy’s with their brood of kids including the newborn, Kate. Sunday was busy with accompanying my mom (she’s a mean violinist) in a neighboring ward in the morning, then going to my block of church meetings, followed by dinner with loads of family, selling my funds to pay for my condo (Pete helped me out), and then of course we needed to test out the hot tub now that it had warmed up.

Sunday night at 10:30, I finally started on my finals. Who thinks they can procrastinate better than me? Who?