From the home front

OK, the big secret I've been holding onto for a couple weeks.

My wife kept looking at this house about half a mile from us, wishing we could get a new house. But we're not really ready to sell, with repairs to be made to our house and no money to make them.

She toured the house during an open house, and the agent took her name and number. She mentioned it to me, but I pretty much dismissed it because I knew there was no way we could get the money to do this.

But the agent was persistent, and one day told my wife that she might have a buyer for OUR house. Hmm.

My wife finally got me to go look at the house, and I liked it. It was bigger by a bedroom, had nicer amenities, a fireplace, vaulted ceilings, a nice backyard, etc. etc. etc. And the seller, who works for a mortgage company, worked out some numbers. They figured that if we could get a certain price for our house, we could retire debt and then absorb a bigger mortgage payment.

So, without putting our house on the market, we allowed the agent to bring a couple people over.

The first one hated it. The second one loved it, then disappeared.

So the agent said she would try a couple of home investors.

One couldn't qualify. The second one tried to get us to sign over all our equity.

At this point, we figured it was over. We had decided that we were not going to go to great lengths to make this happen. We could live in our house, and make some changes to make it more livable.

Then the agent dropped a bomb: She and her husband wanted to buy our house themselves.

So it appears now that THEY will buy it, and we'll buy the other house.

Weird, huh?

-Zube.

Ouch.

So this is how I spent some of Father's Day: In an emergency room.

It was early in the evening when I went outside to throw around the football with my son. I was wearing thick sandals ... then I felt something go through them and into my foot. It was a screw. A rusty screw.

The thing had screwed my shoe to my foot, and every motion of either was very painful. My wife took me to the emergency room and I sat there in a wheelchair for about an hour. They processed me, then I waited longer, then they looked at me, then I waited longer, then I got a room, then I waited longer, then I got moved, then I waited longer, then they hooked me up to remove the screw. Then I waited longer. Then they removed the screw. Then I waited longer.

I was put under so they could remove the screw (with a pair of needlenose pliers from maintenance!), but for just a minute. Apparently I didn't start to bleed until they got the thing out, which is a good thing.

Three and a half hours after I showed up, I was out. Which actually was pretty good for an emergency room. When I left, I saw people I had seen when I came in, still waiting to go through the first part of the process.

My foot is sore.

-Zube.