I have had to fly to Washington DC for work for a week, and have spent the day in a druggy haze of jetlag and lost sleep – lost to being sandwiched between two incredibly fat people – I mean really, really, folds-of-flesh-hanging-over-the-armrest fat (on both sides) – and generally being sat upright in a noisy, windy, dry, soul-less tin-can-in-the-sky. That kind of lost sleep. I reckon I got 3 hours last night, and then had to be functional at 7am local time (4am Vancouver time). Nice. And, just to make things fun, my first meeting was at the White House Conference Centre (the Eisenhower Room), where I had to make a short presentation, unscripted, and without having had a shower. I have survived! Now, napped and lunched and more meetinged and dinnered and worked out, I am back in the hotel bleary eyed again, disbelieving it is still the same day, and thinking... about houses. Called Stef to tell him I miss him etc, and we found we had nearly identically stumbled on the same house plan for the lot. “So I have a T..” “I have an L! But I can see a T!” And the room over the garage should be sunk down about two steps...” “Me too! So with a slightly over-height ceiling!” Eerie. Shame none of these plans yet really work.
Stef, it turns out, spent the day digging in the snow looking for the mysterious surveying pegs, which, after exploration with a metal detector turned up only their own shovels and steel toe boots, seem to be missing. I wonder what we're actually buying if there aren't any survey pegs? Can we make the boundary up? Stef was guided in this misadventure by the 'daughter of Sabre' (Sabre being the property company selling these lots), sister to the guy who lives across the road ('Son of Sabre') and our neighbour-to-be. Lisa Ames, our realtor, was in attendance, rolling her eyes. I say we blow these property lines wide open – we're taking over the whole hill. (Quick, pee on it!)