Where did the week go?

Well… it went into preparing to move. Not packing, but things dealing with the new house, like setting up utility services, and getting a few meetings scheduled to have plumbers and roofers look at things that need work. Oh, and we signed the mortgage paperwork.

For my California readers, home buying is a bit different here. In California you meet with your real estate agent at some point, sign a stack of paper (that is possibly thicker than you are tall) and give them (technically the title company) a big check to cover the down payment and other up front costs. Then, some time after that, you get the keys from your agent and you’re done.

In BC you meet with your mortgage vendor separately and sign a bunch of paperwork with them. A few days later you meet with a lawyer or a notary (which is not the same thing as a notary in the US — notaries in Canada do a lot more than a notary in the US can) and sign another stack of paper. The notary also collects the big cheque. A few days after that, you meet your agent at the house to pick up the keys and do a final walk through to be sure everything is as you expect.

Or at least, that’s my understanding so far. The subtle differences are interesting, but haven’t mattered much to date. The process is similar enough that as long as you ask questions and check your assumptions, it is possible to go through it without too many surprises.

The upshot is… next week we meet with the notary and do the final paperwork signing. A few days after that, we’re homeowners again.

I may be a bit weird, but I miss owning my own place. I even miss maintaining it. Much of the day-to-day stuff I can do myself, and I enjoy it. Fixes and repairs are often not that hard, and I get a sense of satisfaction and closure from those things. Rentals prevent that at some level. I suppose the landlord wouldn’t mind if I did a lot of work on the house, but I would object. That’s not the place for me to put my time, effort, and money.

But soon things will be back to something more like “normal,” however that gets defined in Covid-19 times.

No. Sorry. Let’s not talk about the news. Not a good place to go. We all need to keep informed, but this is an escape, not a recap.

What that evasion means, however, is that I have little else to share this week. I should probably have skipped this post entirely, but I’ve had several notes thanking me for writing regularly. If these posts entertain — or even just provide some distraction — I am happy. Thanks for letting me know they are still appreciated.

I did have one thing to share, but it’s a bit odd, and very tangentially related to the news. Given the pandemic and the fact that we’re all wearing masks, have you ever wondered what an N95 mask does? What does “N95” even mean? I did a bit of reading a while back as I researched a personal respirator for school (before the pandemic hit) but what I learned was incomplete. Here’s a better picture of what an N95 mask does and how it does it:

Science! It works!

That’s it for this week. Next time I should have signed all the paperwork and done more packing. Don’t expect a ton of photos, though. Not much of what remains to get done before the move is photogenic. Sorry!



Sculptor/Artist. Former programmer. Former volunteer firefighter. Former fencer. Weirdest resume on the planet, I suspect.

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Jeff Powell

Sculptor/Artist. Former programmer. Former volunteer firefighter. Former fencer. Weirdest resume on the planet, I suspect.