'Bred Crumbs

11:37 PM It very much appears that there is no jinxing -- or escaping -- it now, so I might as well spell out what I hinted at a while back:

In one week, I become a homeowner.

Today was The Big Day -- the signing of the last, important papers, and the delivery of a huge sum of money from my bank accounts to someplace other than my bank accounts. And the weird things are that I didn't have a feeling I expected, and I did have a feeling I didn't expect.

The rite of passage left me feeling not terrified. And it left me feeling ... sexy.

(It should be noted that one factor in the latter was that I was trying out a new kind of underwear today. OK, you're right, it shouldn't be noted.)

The first stop was the title company, where I signed the papers confirming my approved mortgages and the transfer of title, and closing my last remaining no-penalty escape hatch, the financing contingency. (Hey, isn't that a Ludlum novel?) I met with a nice young woman who flattered me extensively. She noted first how nice it was that I seemed so happy; most buyers at this stage aren't. This surprised me, because during the several times that this whirlwind shotgun romance with real estate has terrified me -- the whole vast monetary commitment I'm making just when the economy is folding like Barry Bonds in October -- my friends have been so excited that I'm doing this that there has been shrieking and hugging and jumping up and down. Which led me to believe that my terror was just me being fearful me, and not the norm. And as for my lack of terror today, I guess it's partly that I've been angsting about this very big deal a lot already, especially when I committed myself to the counteroffer that won me my Mission-Castro condo. And now, I guess I realize, for better or worse there's no turning back, so I might as well go for better. Let's get the papers signed, let's cut that ridiculously big check, and let's get on with my property-rich poverty. Given all that, today's paperwork was the least confusing I've seen, I was working with nice people, and my whiz of a real-estate agent (from time of first meeting to acceptance of offer: nine days) sent over a congratulatory bottle of good champagne, so why not relax for a change?

My breeziness acknowledged, the title agent went on to compliment my tan. Then, seeing my birthdate on a form, she said that I look exactly like a friend of hers who is 24, so she had assumed I was the same age. Why, it's a wonder I didn't cross that big ol' orientation frontier and take her right there on the desk.

I left giddy with flattery and confusion, and strolled a half-block down Castro to take a giant chunk of currency out of my bank (whose overlords are thoughtfully giving me the opportunity to give them more money by picking up my loans; I don't see why I can't just go ahead and hand them all my cash and let them give me an allowance).

Here, between phone calls plotting a trip to Vegas with his boyfriend du jour, the first available account officer further stoked the pile of praise, with one eye on my money and one on me. When he wasn't pushing an equity loan -- good god, man, I haven't even closed yet! -- he was flat-out flirting. But all I wanted from him was a hefty cashier's check. Ain't it always the way?

Feeling like the freshest meat on Castro Street, I went back to my car and headed to my lame-duck home. Under a fogless blue sky, I cruised past the greenery and Spanish spires of Lone Mountain and saw a flock of University of San Francisco grads walk past in cap and gown. People, like me, on the verge of a potentially scary and potentially rewarding unknown. And I thought, I may never learn to quit waiting for the other shoe to drop, but at least I can start enjoying the days that it doesn't.

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12:21 AM Hottest new TV trend: killing off significant recurring characters. In just three months or so, Buffy, Farscape, The West Wing, and, apparently, Angel have axed regular players (in the latter case, literally).

Punchline Option 1: Sheesh, this layoff crap's getting out of hand.
Punchline Option 2: Look out, Chandler!

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Despite this entry and its immediate chronological predecessor, you are not tuned into CBS Marketwatch. But, I have to share yet another stock-market quote, because this sort of thing just gets me, still -- that we, including me, depend on an economic system that leads to an analyst like this* seriously reaching a conclusion like this:

"There is a risk of a sudden attack of prudence. If people stop living beyond their means, this could turn into a recession."

If you have become so immersed in or used to the ways of the markets that that statement did not faze you, please back up and try it again. To avoid tough economic times in which people will find it harder to make ends meet, they need to go into debt.

How does this not make everyone else's heads hurt?

* David Wyss of Standard & Poor's

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05:32 PM Bad Market-analyst Analogy of the Week, from one David Sowerby of Loomis Sayles, concerning investors' lack of enthusiasm over today's rate cut:

"The market opened up the present, pulled the tissue away and looked for the bonus gift at the bottom of the box. It didn't see anything at the bottom and sold off -- almost like a 3-year-old on Christmas morning."

That's odd; I was a bull when I was a toddler.

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01:24 PM Paraphrased words of wisdom from Dana: remember, in California, you can successfully use your zodiac sign as an excuse for your behavior.

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02:18 PM Sure, it's been frustrating that Blogger's been ailing all weekend, but I can deal, simply because the wondrous, overworked Evan Williams shows a regard for the customer that is sadly scarce in corporate America. Witness his explanation for the service's shutdown for a while this morning, which I'm quoting here in case the link goes away, because it deserves to be read and seen as a shining example:

I sincerely apologize to those of you who've had frustrating problems publishing this weekend with little info or indication from me that the problem was being worked on. A perplexing bug came up Thursday, and I spent literally all night trying to fix it. I was scheduled to leave town on Friday afternoon for my grandfather's funeral. I skipped my first flight, and finally took the last one out that would get me there, only after thinking I'd fixed the Blogger problem.

When I got to my destination, I found out that I hadn't, so I spent as much time as I could -- over very lacking connectivity -- working on it the next day or so, thinking I had alleviated it at least.

The fixes where short-lived, so I got on an earlier-than-scheduled flight home yesterday, but ended up getting stuck in stand-by hell for 12 hours, unable to get online.

I finally figured out the problem when I got home late last night. It was a database driver I had installed that had a connection limit they didn't tell me about. So I'm waiting for the new driver from the company now and hoping I haven't permanently betrayed your confidence.

I realize, also, that I need more contingency plans when things like this happen. I'm working on those, as well.

Thanks for your continued patience.

-Ev.

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07:57 AM The death of Douglas Adams of a heart attack at 49 saddens and frightens me, but in the end I guess all there is to do is to heed the large-friendly-lettered advice of "that wholly remarkable book" itself, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

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Saturday on the 24 Divisadero were a couple of high-schoolers who gave off a gay-boy-straight-girl vibe. They were very appealing to me, reading aloud from a children's book on the universe, taking the parts of the two characters, Planetron and an awe-struck child. They were amused by the book exactly as I would be.

When they tired of the book and chatted of other things, their speech was punctuated by "like"s as is the speech of many sub-40s in the Bay Area, including myself. And in casual discourse this should not generally be frowned upon; everyone understandably uses some kind of verbal place-holder for moments of thought, be that "like" or "you know" or my usual, "uh." It's only when this kind of lapse becomes absurd that it becomes, like, laughable, and even with these two bright youngsters, it got to that point, as follows:

He: "I stayed up late playing like Mario Brothers. I couldn't like get past like the third level."

She: "I am so like tired. I couldn't like go to sleep. I was up like really late."

He: "You mean like 2 or like 3?"

On the other hand, I think the ongoing replacement of "[he/she/they] said" with "[he's/she's/they're] all" is fantastic. I don't know why.

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