Maybe Moving

So the spousal unit and me have been vaguely considering moving since we got the good news. If you don't know, we live in a very small condo right downtown Vancouver. We want to stay downtown, and as the average cost of a condo down here is ~$600/sq foot, moving into a bigger place is cost prohibitive. We've gone back and forth between throwing poor prudence to the wind to buy a bigger place, and trying to convince ourselves that in many cultures it's perfectly normal to raise a child in a 600 sq ft condo.

About a week ago, I remember lying in bed discussing these matters, and we came to some sort of resolution that we'd just stay where we are. Somehow about 36 hours after that we had officially made an offer on an 1100 sq ft behemoth a couple blocks over (it's a slightly older building in need of some reno's and stuff, so it was a relative steal). Perhaps fortunately, the offer was rebuked and we declined to take them up on their counter offer. Which was, incidentally, the asking price. Doesn't seem like much of a negotiation. I thought it was supposed to go, you know, they ask for four, we offer two, we agree on three. But it was more like: Four. Two? Four. Three? Four. Fuck it.

It was almost the ultimate impulse buy, and though I guess it wasn't meant to me, it did push us over the fence on this matter and we're now officially looking for a new abode. I still think it's only 50/50 we'll end up moving, but we're full speed ahead for the moment. As I'm heading out of town in a couple weeks and have a fairly heavy schedule till October, and Rachel's due Hallowe'en, it pretty much has to happen very soon (or else not till next spring or something). So our place is listed, apparently the real estate agent's phone is ringing off the hook on it (it's definitely a seller's market, as evidence by the owner's flexibility when we made our offer), and I have to vacate the premises at various times tomorrow so the agent can show strangers around our four rooms (counting the bathroom, but not counting the walk-in closet). Then there's an open house on the weekend, at which point we hope people work themselves up into some sort of bidding war. Not that there'll be too much joy over it, tho, because it probably means that's what we'll be facing when we make our next offer.

Anyway, the last two days has been domestic overload as we prepare the place for public viewing. We could have gotten things ship shape in a superficial way fairly quickly. But mindful of a potential looming move and feeling overdue on some projects anyway, we set about sorting, disposing of, and/or filing the endless boxes of papers and mail and foreign coins and guitar picks and casino chips and road receipts and business cards and myriad, often unidentifiable, objects that filled nook and cranny round here over the past couple years. So it was a major job. We even reorganized the storage space down on P4, if you can believe that shit. But it's done and it feels really good. Even though I'm pretty sure I'm gonna regret about half the stuff I threw out.

I've probably played about 8 hours of poker over the last couple days. Mainly working on getting comfortable up around 20 tables. Have some computer issues to deal with, and testing out different AHK software and the like, but on a decision making level I definitely feel I can handle the tables. Right now I'm about a 5BB/100 winner over a medium-sized sample (about 40k hands playing 15+ tables at a time). I don't think that's sustainable, and in fact it's only 3bb/100 at 100NL (the rest is at 50NL) which is probably a more accurate reflection of where I'm at. But if I could get in enough hands to make Supernova Elite next year while posting a winrate of even a couple BB/100 at 100 and 200NL, I'd be pretty freaking happy. I think it's doable, but I've got a lot of time before I have to really decide.

Also visited my Dad in the hospital today and took him to Coquitlam Center to get his eye glasses fixed and for New York Fries. He seemed better than he has to me in quite a while. The hospital agrees with him, even if he clearly does not agree with it.

Had a first thing this morning dentist appointment that was horrific, exactly what I imagine it's going to be like when I neglect making an appointment. The regular girl is great, but they had a sub. And man, she destroyed me. I thought I was gonna puke for about an hour after and my teeth still ache now, 18 hours later. I asked the receptionist on the way out if I could make sure I had my regular girl next time, and she said sure and told me this lady was a temp. And I said, "oh really? she was terrible". The receptionist looked strangely downtrodden after this remark, which made me feel bad and wonder if the receptionist and the terrible sub were related. Or maybe there were lovers. I know how those hygienists roll.

Oh, and I went to Whatever Works, the new Woody Allen movie starring Larry David. Man, that Larry David sure can't act. What he can do is spit out vitriolic insults with great verve. Or elan. Is that a word? Some word like that, anyway.

Overall it was amusing, which given Woody Allen's wild swings in quality, is a not bad result. Though I did find it odd that for all the pretense of verbal word play and the stage-like mood to things, most of the laughs did not come from a very cerebral place. Larry David ranting at an 8 year-old kid is pretty fun, it turns out. Just like it's pretty fun when Adam Sandler and Bob Barker fight in Happy Gilmore. Doesn't make it smart.

If Woody Allen's entire filmography somehow didn't exist, if this was his debut, it'd probably be considered a 4-star movie. As it is, it's like two stars. Which, you know, I don't if that's fair. What's he supposed to do? How do you quit making Woody Allen-esque movies when you're Woody Allen. In fairness, he has branched out and made some decidedly less Allen-esque movies, and not all of them suck. But he oughta be allowed to come home to roost, don't you think? Still, try as I might, I can't imagine his other movies not existing, so I'm stuck at 2 stars for Whatever Works. Sorry Woody.