Happy Sunday, Lovelys. As a reformed back-slidden Christian, it is my duty to bring praise to the Lord by tickling the ivories at church. Parenthetically, I happen to get paid to do this. This may seem uncharitable, but I assure you, they would be overwrought without me. The church I play at has been my Grandma’s church since I was very young, and frankly, the congregation largely consists of people my Grandma’s age. Which means every week I get to play for very non-musical individuals who are about ready for dirt naps. So I jazz up the hymns and try to bring a bit of life back into the church.
Sunday tends to be either a day of great joy or one of utter irritation. I have been pianist at the church for 6 yrs or so, and during the extent of my marriage, my hubby never once set foot inside with me. Needless to say, I was thrilled when my Rockstar offered to go with me after we moved past the Fuck Buddy stage. Unfortuneately, the church is 70 miles away from home, so I soon realized he was not exactly ecstatic to waste half his Sunday driving (especially during football season). Oh, well. At least he comes sometimes.
Now I know that believing in Jesus makes you happy, because when I leave church, I am always in high spirits. I suppose this is mostly due to the fact that everyone there is generous with their compliments about my playing, and my shoes, and my hair…. I DO love attention, you know. And where in the Bible does it say you can’t be fashionable at church? Anyhoo, moving on.
When I was very young (to quote A.A. Milne), my auntie lived in a beautiful old Victorian house right a block away from church. I was too young to really remember much about it, except that I remember coloring in a Pac-Man coloring book on my cousin’s floor. They moved out of the house because my uncle believed it needed more work than he wanted to put into it. My Auntie has ever since resented him a little bit for making her sell her beautiful house. The people that moved in after that bought it for $399,000.
A few months ago, my Auntie was delighted to tell me that the house was for sale. The people who had lived in it had lost it, and the bank listed it for $149,000. Half the price it sold for before. As my Rockstar and I live in an apartment, I decided that we must buy it. Too bad I have crap credit (damn Victoria’s Secret) and make $8.50 an hr. My Rockstar looked at the house and said, “why would anyone want that?! It’s a million years old. It would cost a fortune to heat and fix up.” Well, he is kind of a No Man and can be very negative sometimes. Blah on him. Maybe it’s because I have childhood memories of the house, or maybe it’s because it has an awesome room for a library, but I must have it, and I don’t care if it needs work, because I have always wanted to learn how to tile and roof and carpenter. I was somewhat disheartened with his attitude, and my credit is so bad, that I didn’t really think anymore of it. Since then, the price has come down $30,000 and I have decided that I am too damn stubborn to not get what I want. Yes, the house will probably sell before I ever get a chance to make enough money to buy it, but I will do whatever it takes to get it. I am going tomorrow to sell a bunch of crap that I don’t really use anyway, and I have applied at a few places, so that I can have a 2nd job to pay off my debt and come up with a down payment. Yes, the house is far away from my job, but I’ll worry about that when and if the time comes. I DO believe anything is possible- you just have to figure out a way, and trust in God. So wish me luck; maybe I will have to sell everything I own in order to buy it, but DAMN IT, it’s my dream house, and if my Rockstar is nice I may let him live in it with me when I buy it. (which he says he won’t, so too bad for him.) XOXO