Like the Corners of My Mind

Remember how I used to cook things for dinner, and then I would come write about it on the internet, and we would chat? Yeah, me neither.

But I went and took a look at the archives, and apparently I used to do that ALL THE TIME. Like, I would go multiple consecutive days with nary a food deliveryperson appearing on my doorstep, and I would frequently consume things called “vegetables,” where “vegetables” means something other than “French fries.”

Oh, the halcyon days before I decided to voluntarily engage in a real estate transaction.

You are perhaps confused, and certainly bereft. I will sum up:

  • We decided to sell our condo. Yay!
  • We got a nice real estate agent, and an awesome lawyer. What are the chances?!
  • We got an offer after nine days on the market. Everything’s coming up Milhouse!
  • We signed a contract and leased a sweet-ass new loft. Best summer ever!
  • The buyers hired an illiterate attorney. Uh-oh.
  • The buyers had their inspection and made a series of outrageous demands showing little to no understanding of how a condominium association works or of what they agreed to in the contract they signed. Yipes!
  • I spent a full week teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown because we cannot afford to carry rent AND a mortgage, the buyers are taking their sweet time responding to our offers of compromise and our lawyer thinks they’re going to bail. Sweet mother of Xanax!
  • I come to the conclusion that the buyers and their agent and lawyer are not illiterate or stupid, as previously supposed, but are in fact malicious. Hate!
  • I grind my teeth down into nubbins. Owie!
  • We come to a compromise 36 hours before we are scheduled to move out of the condo. Said “compromise” involves us giving them a concession of several thousand dollars to pay for something THEY ALREADY AGREED TO PAY FOR IN THE FUCKING CONTRACT. FLAMES, FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE.
  • The day before we move, I learn that our new landlord owes the building management some money, and the super has been instructed to bar us from entering the building until he settles up. Whee!
  • That gets worked out. We spend all night packing and all morning moving. During the move, I develop nausea, chills and a 102 degree fever. Two hours after the move, I have a job interview. Life is awesome!
  • I sweat and stumble my way through the interview. They invite me back for the next round anyway. I hope it’s not because I promised sexual favors and don’t remember. Fingers crossed!

At NO POINT in the past two weeks have I eaten anything prepared in my own kitchen, unless pouring milk into a bowl of Raisin Bran counts. Thus, you can imagine the exhilaration of having an utterly mundane day: Wake up. Go to work. Go to farmer’s market. Come home to sweet-ass loft. Walk dogs. Make dinner. Watch Olympic swimming trials. Write about my problems on the internet.

Is this heaven?

This is the salmon I had for dinner. I’m not going to write out a recipe, because it’s just a dang piece of salmon. But if you want to re-create this exact plate, you can:

  • Cook up some thick-cut bacon.
  • Saute fresh corn kernels and green cabbage in the bacon fat.
  • Toss the bacon back in.
  • Adjust the seasoning.
  • Sear some salmon in butter.
  • Nestle the cooked fish on a bed of cabbage.
  • Throw another tablespoon or two of butter in the pan and let it brown, then add lemon juice.
  • Pour that over the fish.
  • Consume.

And now I’m going to sleep for a thousand million years.

I’ve missed you, internet strangers!

26 thoughts on “Like the Corners of My Mind

  1. Thumbs up for not ending up in the ER AND for the Clue reference. You are my heroine yet again.

    Also, the fish looks yummy.

  2. All us strangers have missed you, your writing, your cooking , and your recipes!
    Are pictures of the loft next ? No need to hide the boxes; we know they are there somewhere.

    they agreed to things in the contract and then wanted you to make changes??? WTF?

  3. Ah, this story reminds me of my days selling real estate. Buyers who want everything they didn’t ask for in the contract, attorneys who advise their clients to walk if they don;t get exactly what they want, closings that last 6 hours (true story), home inspections gone awry…now I remember why I do title searches instead of selling real estate. However, all of your bullshit is now in the past, you’ve got the sweet-ass loft and all is again right with the world. Welcome back. All of us strangers have missed you!

  4. Woot. Finally something intelligent and witty to read again. The internet has been a dreary place for a month. Please stay or else learn to blog in your sleep. ;)

  5. It’s official…you are a rockstar.

    P.S. – I’m totally making that salmon dish tonight. It sounds yummy. Thanks for sharing!

    P.S.S. – I ? the Clue reference. Mrs White is my favorite character!!

  6. Thanks, stranger, Glad you are back. I hope karma sends the malicious buyers and their possibly illiterate lawyer shingles, or is it scabies? Maybe both. Plus bedbugs. Salmon and bacon is divine, when I get my New England paws on some real corn I’ll have at this.

  7. every day I would look for you, not see anything, and pray you hadn’t gone postal and killed a lawyer, (tho that isn’t necessarily a BAD thing…)
    so happy you made it thru to the end in one piece!! And holy shit! Someone else who fries up cabbage in bacon fat! you could get me to eat a head of cabbage a day that way!
    welcome back!

  8. so glad it’s all worked out so far. and good luck on round two of the interview. i have half a head of cabbage in the fridge i was unsure what to do with, so thanks for the inspiration. so yay and welcome back!

  9. That basically sounds like the worst month ever. I can’t imagine how frustrated I would be if I had to pay for something the buyers agreed to pay for themselves. Good for you getting out of there though, and best of luck with the job hunt!

  10. @everyone, oh, how i love seeing your virtual smiling faces again! i hadn’t realized how much i missed it here!

    pix of the loft will be forthcoming once everything is present and correct; we await a sofa, some shelving and kitchen tables.

    thanks so much for all the good wishes. could i impose on you to send some bad wishes to our buyers from hell? i mean, not anything that prevents them from completing the deal, just something that makes their lives really, really irritating.

  11. I have negative and yet not preventing thoughts for evil people making your life difficult. I have some to spare from my thoughts towards my management company.

  12. Hey Michelle! Regarding your plea for others to help you send bad wishes to the buyers from hell…you know, there are sites that will anonymously send animal poop to people of your choosing. Cow poop…elephant poop…gorilla poop…etc. You can ship cute little boxes of stinky hairy dollops of animal dookie, without the recipient ever knowing it was you who sent it. Not that I would encourage doing such a thing…but you know…I’m just putting it out there. Just for your information. Juuuuuuuuuuuuust in case you wanted to know.

  13. Ally that is the job I was meant to do! Sending poop to jerks, that’s a career goal, I definitely have missed my calling….

    I am also wishing for chronically itchy private parts. Not a life threatening thing, just a sanity threatening thing. mwahahahahahha

  14. Here’s hoping that the day after they sign their lives away, there’s a blackout (which of course does not affect your loft in any way), the temperatures outside go up into the 90’s and there is a water main break that leaves them high and dry. And they get a nasty case of crabs. Just for good measure. As for the attorney, he’s already sold his soul, so his punishment will come later.

  15. Just as a reminder, Michelle, you, your writing, and your cooking rock. With Carol Blymire AWOL and, besides, all twisted up with celiac, you’re by go-to food blogger. And I’m appreciating yer bad-ass ways. May your buyers quickly settle, then rot in hell, and may you and yours enjoy the rest of the summer in something like peace.

  16. You’re back! Oh joy, I have something to read again. Been worried that you were having the very month you had, so very sorry. The older I get, the more astonished I find myself at the capacity of some (many) people to be unmitigated shits. That’s a mind-blowing story you tell, right there, and you are to be most highly commended for not resorting to physical violence. Welcome back, and enjoy your glorious loft; just think how much happier and more comfortable you’re going to be than your snot-nosed buyers (especially when all of our wishes for itchy private parts kick in…).

  17. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your buyers’ armpits. And may their attorney eat a habanero pepper that, unbeknownst to him, has been on steriods.

    Salmon looks scrumptious.

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