After watching the silent antics of Buster Keaton at the Paramount this evening, we passed a young man who lay sprawled asleep in the gutter around the corner from the Baltic Room. I whipped out my cell phone as Viv and Spencer paused. I framed the shot, got it, and moved on.

Viv and Spence began to chat with one another in surprise – apparently they had assumed I was getting my phone out to call the cops, or something. Embarassed that the very idea had not even remotely occurred to me – the entirety of my reaction to the sight of the man was a mild amusement – I turned around and walked back to the fellow, beginning to dial 911.

As I approached the third digit, the thought occurred to me that perhaps the guy would rather not have to deal with the cops. So I called out “Hey Buddy, are you alright?”

He instantly opened his eyes and in a moment was able to say that he was fine. I asked him if there was anyone we could call or if he needed help getting somewhere, and he averred he was fine in the same strong Australian accent he’d first spoken in.

We continued up the hill.

Offer accepted! Holy cow, we’re gonna own a house, I think!

The unknown: the seller has insisted on an accelerated purchase calendar that compresses a 30-day process into a 10-day process. Yikes!

As sunset illuminated the city with pinks and reds, Viv and I drove home from West Seattle. We have just placed our fourth offer on a home. This one looks very much as though we will get it. We are both excited about it, too.

I invented a drink to celebrate for Viv, the Homebuyer’s Sunset, which I realized I should video just after I made it. I shot a couple minutes on the Treo. Editor B, it’s yourn if’n you want it, although perhaps I should have been shooting the whole process, beginning several months ago. Geez, I really should have. Dang.

Between househunting and work, I’m amazed I’ve been able to post at all. I have an ongoing convoluted personal discussion with myself about househunting – nearly all of it bitter – which under other circumstances would have ended up here.

I have been engaged, as well, in interesting email exchanges with various friends, which presumably has also sopped up some blogtime.

We put an offer on house number three earlier this week, but lost on a higher offer. I’m completely unconcerned about this; the house was beautiful, but as noted earlier, small and in the wrong location. I suspect our agent is having a hard time understanding my buyer’s psychology, because I am pretty unstressed about the whole process, other than the amount of time it takes.

I estimate that to date we have seen about 120 to 125 houses. We are putting in an average 10 to 15 hours a week on the hunt. Housework has suffered.

Driving remains the most loathesome activity ever misconceived by the mind of man, but I at least I don’t feel like one ton of auto plus my total inability to perform physical tasks with any competence creates the roadbound equivalent of a safetyless machine gun any more. I mean, it’s still literally true that I am a dangerous, incompetent driver and will remain that way. I can’t tell my right from my left and physical activity is unpleasant, because I cannot control the motions of my body as easily as most people. It’s not as though I have a disease or disability, though. I just fall on the less-abled side of the bell curve with respect to performing multivalent-input-required physical tasks. I understand that most people find physical activity and stimulation pleasant. I find it excruciating, because I cannot manage the sensory input I receive. This makes me feel as though I am always out of control of my own body and its’ reactions to the world.

Wait, let me rephrase that: I am always on the verge of losing control of my body. As I become acclimated to a physical activity, I rely less and less on actual external sensory input, and more and more on learned patterns of action and mind. As I become less interactive with the physical world, I exhibit a greater degree of competence in physical tasks.

You can see how I note my increasing sense of control of the car with some unease.

We considered making an offer on this house, but concluded it was too large to suit our needs.

You know, it’s hard get back to work what with the plowing and planting ad weeding and feeding when you’ve spent a week at the beach and felt the biting sting of sand on the Oregon wind at midsummer.

This day Viv and I had the pleasure of dining in the company of Eric and Anne at the Pink Door. This followed an extended sojourn about the streets of the traditional rush-hour downtown traffic. It is to the credit of the visiting parties that they did not leap out of the car in honest expression of the fear they undoubtedly felt with me at the wheel.

There is little in life that offers more potential for embarassment than concluding that your father has undertipped, realizing you don’t have cash on you to make up the difference, and concluding that you must mention it to him, only to realize after you call it to his attention that he has not, in fact, undertipped.