As I inch ever nearer to the closing date on my house, my sentiment evolves from the jitters to cold feet to blatant panic.  The responsibilities of owning a house are staggering, and I'm not even sure I'd be able to handle a task as simple as mowing my lawn every week.  It's also a nidus of excitement, the lure of an independence and a self-reliance that wanted as long as I can remember; it also changes my behavior and brightens my mood.   As much as I doubt myself, I am salivating for the chance to challenge myself and to change again.  Change: that is the nature of things, is it not, my lovely readers?  Whether to vacillate between arbitrary self-eviscerating extremes or to metamorphose, larva to crystalis to adult to death, a man's capacity for change is the length and breadth of his existence.  And each man, on a few and far between shiny days of his life, turns to the sky vis-a-vis to proclaim himself.  It's my day.

I haven't written an update in a while.  Now, now, there's no reason to get mad.  Don't yell at me.  I probably won't listen anyway.

See, not only did I buy a house, lovely readers, I bought a house in Guilderland, one of the richest neighborhoods in Albany.  I'm not very pleased about paying Guilderland school taxes, but value and resellability of this neighborhood more than make up for it.  I'm looking at some serious profit once Obama gets the hell out of the white house.

I'm about two months away from closing, and it's crunch time for the mortgage application.  Piles and piles and piles of papers to sign, most of which, I don't even read.  Piles from the real estate people, piles from the mortgage company, piles from the home inspectors, piles from my attorney, piles from the government.  If I see one more document about carbon monoxide regulations or water table laws in Albany county, I'm going to hurl some rocks.  Can't I just write a damn check and grab the keys?  Whatever.  Buying a house is a long and painful process.

But owning a house, however, is incredibly sexy.  All those jackasses who told me I'm way out of my league when I said I was going to buy a house are flabbergasted at my 1300 square feet three bedroom two full bath fully updated ranch with brand new monderized center-stove ceramic tile kitchen,  walk-in closet, sliding glass doors, brand new deck and spacious half-acre back yard. 

Behold, my brand new tiled roof and vinyl siding, bitches, and weep.

Dear Ortho,

I don’t tell you how to put in rods and screws; therefore, keep your grubby paws off my patient’s beta blockers and insulin and stop prescribing massive doses of motrin and toradol to patients with stage II-III renal failure.

Thank you very much.