If the house is $79,900, and we make no down payment at all, then house payments on a 30-year mortgage come out to $503 a month. That...isn't too bad. For some reason, in my head, buying a house is more like paying thousands and thousands of dollars a month. Money we couldn't afford. But maybe we can... Found a few cute little places. And Jim knows a realtor who works with HUD a lot, and so maybe, just maybe, she might be able to find something cute and cheap, say on a foreclosure or a distress sale. Going to call her, I think. And then...then, José, the darling, the wonderful, the wizard of Financial Aid, sent me back an e-mail:

[Names Withheld] from Bank X in Indianapolis have worked with our students who are not employed, but have financial aid. It is a difficult situation for an underwriter, but having people like them that understand the student loans, helps...

So I asked for their contact information. Because with me not working and my student loans, even though Angel is working, it might get a wee bit shaky. Things move so quickly, suddenly. And now I'm thinking about when we could do all this. Can we buy a house so that it's all done by the beginning of April, so I can do finals and Boards and then move in mid-May? Can it all go so fast? I don't want to have to do clinicals and house closings... And then, fencing. I'm so sore. So out of shape. But I had such a wonderful time. They demo'd sabre and epée for us, made us run around in circles, learn footwork, and lunges. Very much fun. A couple of high school kids there, a pair of anarchist-style Hot Topic-inspiring works in combat boots and ripped pants, Eric with a green mohawk, Jake quiet and blond, a little chubby. I want to take a picture of them, write a story about them. They were really sweet, interesting kids. Good humour. Reminded me of Jeremy, who took a bottle of JD to class with him one day, who carved a swastika into his arm (Eric had a swastika with the little "no" circle around it inked on his pants), who shaved his head after I told him I liked his hair. Jeremy with the six-inch boot knife, who used to call me in the evenings, and talk to me until his father started screaming, then hang up so I wouldn't hear him getting beaten up. I wonder how they think. I wonder.