On March 12th, 1995, I met Daryk.
On March 12th, 2006, unixd0rk and I broke up.
Today, March 12th, 2008, I went with a realtor (my landlady, and friend, Catherine) and looked at my very first house*.
Don't get too excited -- it's looking like it's gonna be more trouble than it's worth. That place on the website, where it says it has two bathrooms? My best guess is that they're counting the alley outside as one of them. The house was clearly built before most houses had indoor plumbing. It has ONE bathroom, which was obviously added on with bubblegum and duct tape, and it's the teeniest, tiniest, most claustrophobia-inducing little water closet that you've ever seen.
The true bummer is that the rest of the house is perfect (for me, anyway). Big rooms. Lotsa light. The kitchen would need, well, everything, but with being at The Co-op every day, I would have no problem living off of a microwave, a toaster oven, and leftovers for a good long while. But a bathroom with no tub, that's not even wide enough to install one? Ack.
I've got calls in to Nick and Randy (my favorite green house remodeling guys), but it's looking like creating a bathroom that would make me happy would involve reinventing the wheel. Nobody buys the first house that they see ... right? Meh.
Oh, and I did my good deed for the day too: I put in about 45 minutes phone banking at the newly-opened local Obama headquarters. So go me.
*Note: By "my very first house" I mean the very first house that a realtor walked me through and tried to sell to me, and not (necessarily) that I intend to buy this one.