Third time lucky

I see Myles has a nice photo of poppies on his blog today, it being Remembrance Day.

Lest we Forget.

Remembrance Day is a holiday in Canada, as there are many many veterans here from all kinds of wars, including two (I think) veterans of World War I who are still alive.

Of course, I totally forgot about what day it was, and booked a house viewing for the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. Because I am from Foreign. So, when we tried to get down the road to see the house it was blocked off by the cops to keep it clear for the Legion parade.

The Legion won't mean anything to Irish readers, so I shall explain.

The Legion is a community centre for war veterans that serves cheap booze. Anyone can join a Legion and partake of said cheap booze whenever they want. They also hold dances and other socials and are the social centre of many small communities.

I suppose Legions are the Canadian equivalent of the local rugby or GAA club. Except that, instead of having to go to the odd rugby match in order to pretend you are in it for more than the cheap booze, you have to go to the Remembrance Day ceremonies.

Anyways, I digress, we got to the house eventually and it was not worth the gas to go look at it.

As usual.

I hate househunting. This is the third time I have done this.

Third time lucky I hope.

I keep moaning at my realtor; just find me a house and tell me what to write on the cheque. (Yes, in Canada, the purchaser has an estate agent as well as the seller).

She hasn't come up with anywhere yet. Well, to be fair, she only started being our realtor last week, when the old man we tried to buy a house from withdrew it from the market and wasted everyone's time for a week and a half. So in return for being nice about it (christamighty, it's HIS house, he doesn't have to sell it if he doesn't want to, although it would be nice if he didn't pretend he did), she said she'd help us find a house.

Up till now, we've found every house we've looked at. Himself spends hours on the Internet every night researching houses on MLS.ca (website of houses for sale through realtors) and kijiji (houses for private sale). If he makes me look at more than three a night I start to hyperventilate, so I am very glad that he is an Aquarian and likes this kind of work.

Those who know me know that the twice I bought a home, it was the first place I looked at. I just wanted a place.

However, this place has to be right, for the simple fact that it's not just me. It will be Himself's place too.

Also, it just has to be right. This is the house I will spend most of my forties in, I presume, so it needs to be hugely reaffirming and positive, so I can get on with whatever it is happens to me in my forties.

One of my friends, who is very organized, suggested we draw up a list of all the things we want in a house. That way, we can be sure everyone's needs are included and we can prioritise what we can do without.

It has to be the one.

That was all we could come up with.

I suggested we try harder. We thought for a while.

A garden, I said.

Not too difficult in Canada. Most houses come with a garden.

I came up with a house that you can have a puppy in.

Himself came up with woodstove.

That helped to narrow it down in wintery, pet-loving Nova Scotia, I can tell you!!

We're hopeless.

We'll know when we see it.

Anyways, after spending three months wandering around District 7 and telling each other that it was District 7 or nowhere, today we thought to hell with it and headed off in the opposite direction. I don't even know what District we were in. It was on the edge of the map.

An adventure.

Of course, even though it was a day off work, and the sun was shining and the sea was beautiful and it wasn't really too cold for Remembrance Day, I am on Champix right now and not supposed to want to smoke.

hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

For most of every day right now, I am the Dark Overlord of Thundering Bitchland, and for the remainder I am a weeping mess. Also, because I am on Champix (the wonder drug that removes cravings, so you can break the habit- not), I am having the most vivid, lurid dreams every night and waking up completely freaked out by them at odd hours of the morning.

Put it like this, if I know you, you have been in one of my dreams lately, and you should be very relieved that I can't put them on You Tube.

Oh well, I want to quit. Third time lucky I hope.

As well as dealing with me, Himself has been fighting a deeply infected root canal gone wrong for the last couple of weeks, that has gotten so bad, it has sprouted a greenish-yellowish river of pus that seems to have spread up to his ear. He is on his second bout of penicillin and Tylenol 3 is his friend right now, so he snores like a bear all night and walks around with hot things attached to his face all day.

My, it was fun. Him driving around one-handed with a Large Double Double pressed against his jaw, and me crying with rage every time he didn't hear the mental directions I was reduced to thinking at him, because if I spoke out loud I would say 'give me a fucking cigarette NOW'.

Despite this, we found a house we liked.

If we manage to get this house, I will offer all my nicotine withdrawal rage up to whatever it is that ensures world peace and improved living standards for all.

If we don't, I will have to kill something. Hopefully just in one of my dreams.