The RBC has release its ‘Housing Trends and Affordability Report’ for November 2009.

Unsurprisingly, Vancouver leads the pack nationally, with an average Detached bungalow requiring 66.8% of the average household income to service a 25-year mortgage loan
at a five-year fixed rate after a 25% down payment. Here are some excerpts from the report -

“Vancouver — Heating up rapidly
The Vancouver housing market continues to roar back in a spectacular way and property prices are now heating up closer and closer to a boil.  Resale activity has surged since spring and the rebound has more than fully reversed the dramatic drop that occurred in 2008. The concomitant rise in the number of units available for sale has been more subdued, which has considerably tightened the market.  In fact, the ratio of sales to new listings has returned to levels last seen in 2005 and early 2006 when prices were rising at a double-digit annual pace. This near-frenzied tone to the market is occurring despite still historically poor, and now deteriorating, levels of affordability.  In the third quarter, RBC’s affordability measures for Vancouver worsened for the first time since early 2008, rising between 1.7 and 4.3 percentage points.  These increases were, in fact, the biggest among major cities in Canada.  Even though the affordability measures fell substantially during 2008 and early 2009, they remain well above long-term averages.”

What’s happening in the trenches of RE sales? This exchange at RE Talks, starting 25 Nov 2009 9:12 am, with a realtor responding to some questions about buyers -

MikeStewartRealtor – “I am very optimistic about Vancouver’s prospects and [that is] because of what I see on the frontlines.
Out of every 10 buyers you have dealt with, how many buyers get high ratio financing (5% down)? Less than 10% – Most put down at minimum 20% and are not highly leveraged.
How many buyers are first time buyers? 20-30%
How many are rich foreigners? 20-25%.
How many are poor foreigners (i.e. high ratio financing)? Zero
How many need dual income? 40%
Are you seeing foreigners buying with cash and using Vancouver as a vacation property? 15% of my business.
How many properties are bought as rentals? 20%.
The people I work with buy and hold because they see big potential for Vancouver.”

Greenhorn (10:09 pm) – Anecdotal evidence I have from a small sample in that rich money is buying downtown Vancouver and the West side. Iranians, Mainland Chinese, Koreans and few buyers from the Middle East. Pretty interesting.

I’ve kind of been off the grid lately-save following a few conversations via Twitter- due to  the birth of my son.  Thanks again to everyone for all the well wishes.  Mommy and baby are doing great.  Sleep is a precious commodity but I am blessed to be able to take a few days off to enjoy the adjustment to our little one.  I always seem to compare my approach to teaching with my approach to parenting and vice versa.  Here’s the top 10:

10.  The clientele will expose your bad habits. 

9.  You can read as many “how to” books as you want, but nothing prepares you for your first real life encounter.

8.  They like it when you act goofy.

7.  Sometimes you just have to wing it. 

6.  They get grumpy before lunch time.

5.  They get sleepy after lunch time.

4. You’re gonna lose some sleep.

3. Working at one makes you better at the other.

2.  Balance is crucial.

1.  If it stinks, change it.

Whistler is Vancouver’s premier ‘cottage country’. You’d be excused for guessing that, as Vancouver boomed, Whistler would have moved in lock-step. This has not been the case, with the luxury market there moving down for years. This has affected a subgroup of Vancouver RE investors. These two posts at RE Talks on 25 Nov 2009 -

kevind (5:43 am) – “I have several friends and associates that got hammered and are still stuck in Whistler and can’t get their properties sold. One guy has had his place for sale for 5 years and has had only one offer in all that time for 1 million under his build cost and he just keeps dropping the price. He’s also lost most of his hair from the stress. I know of another place that went on the market new in 2005 for just under 3 million and last time I looked it had dropped to the 1.8 range and still for sale. The build and land cost him more than 1.8. A round of drinks one evening last season at the Longhorn and I hear this guy over at the next table make the comment something like “Christ, I feel like I could put my place up for 1 buck and no one would call”. Another friend I know just wishes his place would magically burn to the ground because the insurance replacement build value is 1.5 million more than he can hope to get for it today if he’s lucky and he would still own the land. I could go on and on.”

Greenhorn (8:50 am) – “Whistler bankrupted a very good friend of mine. He got in 4 years ago on the Olympics hype but it was all a mirage. Once his property was underwater, he gave it back to the bank and got sued for the deficit. Just going through bankruptcy now. Luckily other assets like his home were in his wifes name and she has credit still or he would be on the street. They both have jobs and income right now, but the deficit to the bank was too huge to recover from. Bankruptcy was the only choice. I went to many parties in his house in Whistler. It was beautiful. Towards the end, he had a tenant who operated the property as a type of hostel/hotel. The tenant was always late on rent payments though he was making money and getting paid every month. There are a lot of scammers up there.”

I’ve taken various forms of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (a popular personality test) over the last eight years. Each time, I’ve felt like it’s given me some new insight into my life. However, now that I’m settling into my adult skin and becoming a little more set in my attitudes, I look back and I think how useless this test was.

When I was 17, I tested as a strong Introverted INtuitive Feeling Perceiving personality. (“The Idealist”).

Then at around 20, I’d become an I N Thinking P (“The Architecht”).

By 23, I was a strong I N T Judging (“The Mastermind”).

Then at 24 I was back to INTP.

Today, I’m apparently an Extraverted N T P (“The Inventor”).

The only letter I’ve never been is Sensing. Yet if you typealyze this blog, I have the writing style of an ISTP (my old score notwithstanding). I know I’ve changed a lot since I was a young, shy, anxious kitten, and I sometimes think that my own mother, were she still alive, wouldn’t recognize me today. But seriously, I’ve covered a quarter of the map with this test! That’s ridic.

Anyway, the point is that people change as they grow. Even if the MBTI has any merit at all, it’s worthless before a certain age, and really ought not to be given to undeclared college freshman (thanks, MSU career center, for convincing me that I was computer science material for four years. I might as well have consulted an astrologer).

Today I started off my morning in the usual way: eating a bowl of cereal and checking e-mails. I was quite surprised when I opened the latest piece of correspondence from the Tokyo office and saw this:

Tuesday 24th of November, 2009
Dear Jennifer,
We take great pleasure in offering you a position as a Language Instructor!
We found your background and qualifications very impressive, and we believe that you will be an ideal representative for us. … We look forward to working with you in the near future.

Yep! I officially got the job! 英語のせんせいに成るよ！I’ve become an English teacher!
I can now confirm that I will be leaving America at the end of March 2010 and will begin teaching at the beginning of April.

I now begin the long process of visa applications and loads of other tedious paperwork to complete. I’ll be keeping you posted on every little detail.

とてもうれしいですよ！I’m so happy!
やった！YAY, I did it!

Je ne me suis jamais impliqué dans quoi que ce soit avant cette année. Mis à part peut-être cette fois, secondaire 5, cours d’économie avec une prof qui a inscrit dans mon album de finissant que j’étais « celui que l’on veut tous comme fils », j’avais décidé de poser ma candidature pour être le représentant de classe. Je me disais que ça serait cocasse et inusité et qu’il s’agirait peut-être là d’une expérience le fun. Malheureusement, la majorité a décidé que je n’étais pas celui que l’on veut tous comme représentant.

Si bien que je me suis toujours tenu loin des conseils étudiants, exécutif estudiantin ou autres trucs qui se placent si bien dans une candidature pour entrer en médecine. J’observais les gens aller et cultivais les préjugés comme Claude Dubois cultive le mépris.

Puis cette année, après une léthargie de 21 ans, j’ai décidé de prendre partie prenante dans la vie collective. C’est à la surprise de mon entourage que le tout en flegme que je suis a décidé de s’impliquer dans l’exubérant festival étudiant qui a lieu annuellement dans la faculté. Homme de chiffre et de rigueur, je suis le trésorier de ladite festivité qui, ma foi, brasse de substantielles sommes.

C’est donc depuis le début de l’année que l’exécutif se rencontre et planifie le Festival mythique à venir. Je dois avouer que j’appréhendais le premier meeting. Je m’imaginais avec clarté un groupuscule de gens mus par une motivation enragée, se caressant la génitalité avec une vigueur soutenue, excités à l’idée seule d’entériner un ordre du jour. Ils étaient là, dans ma tête, à vouloir trouver des moyens saugrenus pour détourner de façon malsaine les cotisations des étudiants afin de s’acheter sans vergogne quantité de ponchos et multitude de sachets de thé vert.

Évidemment, il n’en est rien. Il s’agit plutôt d’un groupe de gens pragmatiques et motivés en plus d’être allumés. Je me surprends à aimer mon implication. J’ai pris plaisir à monter mon budget, j’ai hâte au Festival, fin janvier. J’abats de la besogne et j’ai l’impression d’être utile, un sentiment que je ressens trop rarement.

Alors voilà, je suis un gamin qui a du plaisir. Je suis toujours mitigé lorsque je découvre sur le RELATIF tard des plaisirs que j’ignorais ou boudais jusque-là. Je trouve ça exaltant de pouvoir garnir ma vie parfois trop terne d’un amusement supplémentaire, mais je me sens un peu idiot de ne pas l’avoir découvert avant. Jamais capable d’être entièrement content le gars.

This from Good Times at robchipman.net 24 Nov 2009 12:36 pm -

“Just got back [to Vancouver] from South East Asia (the Philippines,  Vietnam and Thailand), [where] North American & European travelers all gave me incredulous looks when I told them about Canadian RE, personal debt levels, etc.  They just shook their heads and said: “Did you guys not watch what happened around you?????” I just smile, and say we are special…  “

VREAA is a collection of anecdotes from Vancouver and its immediate surrounds. Occasionally, however, an anecdote from elsewhere in Canada speaks so powerfully of issues that are relevant to our market that they merit mention here. This anecdote from Garth Turner’s greaterfool.ca article 24 Nov 2009 crosses that threshold, so I post it here, with it’s out-of-province source (Toronto) clearly noted. It speaks to the financial and social risks of being a young FTB in a RE bubble market. A mortgage broker in Toronto describes their children’s friend’s travails -

“House purchase summer of 2008.   100% financing, 40 year amortization.  Husband a carpenter, wife at home with the new baby.  November 2008, husband laid off, wife goes back to work for minimum wage. Still not enough family income to pay the mortgage and buy groceries. Value of house has dropped 10%.  Payout of mortgage was higher than the purchase price the day they completed, by virtue of 100% financing and the CMHC fee.  Real Estate commission 7% on the first $100,000, 3.5% on the balance.  Shortfall would be $49,000.  Couples’ families want to help.  Daughter and baby move home with her parents.  Son moves home to his parents.  Duplex is rented out to cover the mortgage payment. This doesn’t work.  Husband moves in with wife and her parents.  This doesn’t work.  Couple rent cheap apartment. This doesn’t work.  Mother and child leave after 8 year relationship. There hasn’t been a lot of time spent on discussing the human side of this recession or investing in a real estate bubble but it is important to note the consequences are not [limited to] a loss of money or investment.”

My husband is a silly guy.  Today I remembered this drawing of his that he made while suffering from a nasty stomach bug.  He had become quite intimate with the toilet and was running out of ways to entertain himself.  So he made this crass, “everyman” self-portrait:

He drew himself drawing himself while he was on the toilet.  It’s like Norman Rockwell’s self-portrait.

To compete with my husband, I recalled my own special toilet memory and committed it to paper.  This was a recent experience with a Japanese toilet.  They look like this:

Built into the ground, like a urinal on the floor.  A woman must strike the most unfeminine pose when using it and take care not to pee all over her pants.

I was using one of these on the shinkansen.  The normal Japanese toilets are intimidating, but on trains, they’re even worse.  For some reason, they’re raised on platforms.  And when you’re using the toilet, you have to hold onto the handlebars unless you want to get knocked to the floor with your pants down when the train hits a bump or suddenly changes speed.

I don’t know what scenario was more frightening: a train accident occurring while I was squatting in such a vulnerable position; or some salaryman finding the door unlocked, catching an eyeful of my naked ass.

Lors de ma dernière visite sur le site ContactDistance.fr (vous trouverez le lien sur ma Blogroll), l’article en date qui s’appelle : “Motivation des salariés : ce n’est pas qu’une question d’argent” m’a guéri du syndrome de la page blanche et,  j’en suis venue à me demander : Qu’est ce qui nous motive, nous téléconseillers, à nous lever tous les matins pour prendre des appels toute la journée? Là encore, je me dois de ne pas laisser cette question trop en suspens!

Sachez bien que dans MON centre d’appels, la motivation des salariés ne passe pas par l’appât du gain, sinon ça se saurait! Ah si, il y a une “modique”prime de fin d’année, en compensation de nos efforts et attribuée à la tête du client, pour ceux qui auraient lu mes précédents articles, notamment”Comment ça marche“, ça vous étonne? Je vous invite à postuler dans mon entreprise et vous vous en rendrez vite compte! Vous vous direz peut-être que l’argent ne fait pas tout, qu’il y a aussi l’ambiance  entre collègues, la passion pour le métier, les perspectives d’évolution et la reconnaissance de sa hiérarchie…. oh douce utopie, si seulement…

Qui dit primes allouées à la bonne tête du téléconseiller, dit forcément rancoeur et jalousie des autres, qui triment tout autant, si ce n’est plus et fournissent le même bilan de fin d’année mais, qui ne voient jamais rien venir! Sans parler de ceux à qui l’on donne le privilège de prendre peu d’appels et que l’on sollicite régulièrement pour répondre à des mails, référence à mon article”vous avez un mess@ge!”. A la différence de certains centres d’appels comme Téléperformance ou même , moins connu, Télétech et d’autres surement (croyez-moi, j’ai mes sources!!), pour lesquels les primes ne sont certes pas mirobolantes, mais suffisamment pour que le téléconseiller s’investisse : il a des objectifs et, si ces derniers sont atteints, il gagne une certaine somme! simple, juste et efficace, voilà une bonne technique qui a fait ses preuves. Il n’y a donc aucune injustice ni différence entre téléconseillers, chacun travaille pour soi et, du coup cela ne crée aucune animosité entre salariés! J’en conclus donc et, je vous le confirme pour le vivre, que l’on n’est donc pas motivé à se lever tous les matins pour retrouver les collègues et la bonne ambiance qui règne ici, dans MON centre d’appels!!

Mis à part l’aspect financier de la chose, car apparemment” Motivation des salariés : ce n’est pas qu’une question d’argent”, pour reprendre encore cette phrase “choc” qui m’a pour ainsi dire sauvée de la page blanche, les perspectives d’évolutions pourraient être une roue de secours! Mais là encore tout dépend de la taille de votre centre d’appels! Le mien est tout petit, nous n’avons que cinq superviseurs, qui tiennent à leur place comme à la prunelle de leurs yeux, parce qu’ils sont conscients d’être rémunérés à ne rien faire! Il y a bien des places qui se libéreront lors du départ en retraite de certains de nos collaborateurs qui travaillent en sections départementales (centres d’accueil physique et de gestion des dossiers de nos “appelants”)mais là aussi, celles-ci coûtent chères parce qu’il y en a peu et certaines sont déjà gardées bien aux chauds. En même temps, c’est mathématique: plus le centre d’appels est grand, plus il y a de turn over et donc des chances d’évoluer, encore faudrait-il que des postes à évolution se libèrent et aussi qu’un bon téléconseiller puisse faire un bon superviseur ou un bon gestionnaire et, là aussi  je vous assure que ça n’est pas toujours le cas!

Mais alors, que nous reste t-il? La reconnaissance de ma hiérarchie? Celle que j’imagine me convoquer moi, Zoé, téléconseillère depuis presque 3ans, pour me féliciter de mes fidèles et loyaux services, me promettant de me donner la prime, en guise d’encouragement, peut-être l’année prochaine…si je continue à travailler comme ça, à y croire…encore et encore…Faut pas rêver, jamais un” merci” ni de”félicitations”, rien!!

Moi je vais vous dire ce qui  nous “motive” à nous lever tous les matins pour en baver toute la journée, traités comme des esclaves, parce que nous sommes vraiment dans l’air de l’esclavagisme moderne : à part nos horaires pas trop durs, en 35h annualisées parce que nous devons nous caler sur les vacances scolaires de nos “appelants” qui nous permettent, surtout l’été, de partir à 15h , voir 15H30, nous nous levons pour gagner juste assez de quoi financer tous nos besoins primaires : payer nos factures, la scolarité de nos enfants, faire nos courses alimentaires, et une fois tout cela réglé, il ne reste preque plus rien, à peine de quoi s’accorder un petit extra, se faire un petit plaisir et,pas toujours…Je ne sais pas qui a osé nous caser dans la tranche sociale du travailleur moyen?!…c’est une honte, qu’il vive avec mon salaire pendant un mois et il verra bien! Moi qui bien souvent, me sent plus pauvre que les pauvres!!

Et vous, qu’est-ce qui vous motive dans votre travail?

Pour terminer, je voudrais remercier toutes les personnes qui sont venues aussi nombreuses visiter mon blog et, j’espère que cela continuera! A tous les lecteurs ayant travaillé ou travaillant encore, comme moi, en centres d’appels, je vous remercie de me lire vous aussi, ainsi que pour vos commentaires, drôles et touchants à la fois! Puisse notre métier être reconnu à sa juste valeur!

Bonne soirée et à très bientôt.

This from Anonymous at fishyre.blogspot.com 19 Nov 2009 9:22 am -

“I think people have lost their minds. I know several people who are in their early 30s or even 40s who are running out and buying not just one, but 2 or 3 houses! All in the name of “investment” with huge, long term mortgages. If that isn’t the sign of a bubble, I don’t know what is.”

From kansai_92 at RE Talks 23 Nov 2009 10:47 pm -

“Prices have been climbing since the spring, and yet many recent owners I know are on edge. Worried about interest rates and job loss.”

This from RennieWhereRU? at vancouvercondo.info 23 Nov 2009 10:33 pm -

“Got a lovely letter today from RBC. My unsecured credit line is going up a full point in January [2010] to prime + 2%.  Still ridiculously low, but a true sign of what is to come. Why can’t CMHC insure my credit line, so I don’t have to get this increase in rate and go up to my tits in debt? Not fair.”

Has the boom resulted in a larger ‘reservoir’ of housing that is off-market because of renos?  A very interesting idea from Drachen at vancouvercondo.info 23 Nov 2009 4:51 pm -

“I think part of what is supporting the market is that turnover of housing is so fast that a decent chunk of available housing is constantly in a state of renovation/pre-renovation/post-renovation. In my neighbourhood, for the last 3-4 years, the amount of housing which is unavailable due to renovation is about 10%. Right now the duplex next door is without tenants and awaiting planning approval, there’s another two in the same state within a block of me and a rental complex of 8-10 units that was bulldozed 2 1/2 years ago and has sat empty ever since. This is a consistent pattern throughout the neighbourhood and it’s been at about that level for years now. Because of the inflation in prices, owners aren’t in any rush and really don’t care much if the renovations take 2-3 years to complete because it just means the place will be worth more when they finally sell. There was a big rush of activity last year around this time when prices were falling though, which indicates to me that there will be a lot of properties listed in a relatively short time once a consistent downwards (or even neutral) trend emerges.”

I know that many of you are wondering what exactly is going on with me and my move to Japan.

Well, so am I.

I had my interview for a teaching placement three weeks ago in Orlando. It went very well. I met some great people and had fun doing my presentation. I also had a wonderful personal interview that lasted about forty five minutes. I left feeling very confident and was told to expect a response about three weeks later.
All of my references went through just fine and my liaison is simply wonderful.

But I’m still waiting.

I received an e-mail today informing me that there had been a technical glitch transferring my video presentation to the Tokyo office. Until that’s fixed, the big, scary CEOs can’t see my presentation. My liaison assured me she’s working on the problem and that it should be fixed really quickly. So I wait.

いら立たしい! So frustrating!

So as soon as I hear anything I will be updating.

Only a minority of Vancouver participants have any first-hand experience of RE markets taking a substantial fall. This from Cassandra at greaterfool.ca 23 Nov 2009 6:15 pm -

“I have bought and sold property both in Vancouver and Hong Kong over the past decade. Hong Kong real estate speculation is not a sport for the faint of heart. When it moves, it moves like a greyhound on steroids, both going up and down. The run-up in Vancouver RE reminds me of HK before the 1997/98 bust, which was breathtaking in its rapid decline, and left millions in negative equity. … Back in more sedate Canada in 2007 some friends of mine asked my opinion on whether they should buy a four-bedroom 1960’s house in Burnaby for $749,000. I brought out my chart and showed them the last ten-year real estate run-up compared to the historical averages, pointed to the top [and] said to them, “Would you want to buy here?” They would, apparently. Where some see danger, others only see the missed opportunity, all those years where they could have made more money. And we’d better jump in before it’s too late. These were university educated people in their forties. Go figure. Strap in your seatbelts, Vancouver first-time-buyers, your tummy’s going to be somewhere above you when the silent whistle blows…”

As has been told in previous tales, my girlfriend and I have two female cats. Cat #1 has been around since 2005, and Cat #2 came on the scene a year or so later. They lived in small apartments together and even survived several moves to new homes without killing each other. They weren’t the types of felines that you see on the sickeningly adorable calendars that cuddle together as they sleep. It was more of a sleep with one eye open relationship that they shared. Four months ago they were split apart when my girlfriend moved to her own apartment in order to be closer to her job, taking Cat #2 with her. Cat #1 stayed with me, and suddenly they were each happier than they’d been in years. We often wondered and discussed what would happen if they ever had to live under the same roof again.

Yesterday, they were reunited.
Today, the world is still reeling from this catastrophe.

Just eight hours ago my girlfriend got on a plane to go to Germany for her job and I had volunteered to take care of Cat #2 in my home while she was away. Moments after this reunification took place I knew that it was in my best interest to keep a diary for the next week in order to detail the carnage.

DAY ONE – Sunday

Today, Cat #2 was brought over in the typical pet taxi fashion. I had just experienced a forty-five minute car ride with her continuously hollering off beat to the music that was playing so I was ready for some peace and quiet. I didn’t make it more than two feet in the door of my apartment when the creatures made eye contact with one another. Cat #1 began to hiss and showed fangs that up until now, I had thought only existed in vampire movies. The cat carrier began to shake violently as though a wounded rhinoceros was being held captive within. When the carrier was opened, Cat #2 bolted from her plastic prison while Cat #1 was immediately locked away in the bedroom for the season. I headed out the apartment door to get the remaining luggage from the car and Cat #2 bolted out behind me, and decided to head for the hills. She ran towards the parking lot, but due to excess body fat and a full fur coat, paired with the pressures of a rather unintelligent animal experiencing sheer panic and terror, she didn’t make it far before realizing that she had no idea where she was going in the first place. Thank goodness cats don’t have GPS devices or she may have made it all the way to Reno before I caught up with her.

The rest of the day was spent watching the two cats throw icy glares back and forth while listening to a series of guttural growling, hissing, and spitting. It was a lot like watching teenage girls interact during my high school years. Cat #1 didn’t sleep in the bed that night as usual. She stayed stationed on the computer desk, fully alert and ready to protect her home from the intruder. I assume that she was expecting some sort of sneak attack that never came. To make up for this, she took out her aggression on my Venetian window blinds. May they rest in peace.

DAY TWO – Monday

I awoke this morning to the dulcet tones of two felines attempting to rip the hides off of each other. My girlfriend slept soundly through this racket while I risked life and limb to separate the animals. I crept quietly into the bathroom to get ready for the trip to the airport and Cat #1 entered behind me, completing her usual morning routine of getting in my way. Without warning, Cat #2 also wandered in to join the party. Suddenly realizing that they were mere inches from one another, both cats jumped in shock and attempted to turn themselves inside out. Cat #2 fled the room while Cat #1 fled into a wall. Eventually we headed to the airport and the whole trip I silently prayed that I would not return to the apartment to find a cat corpse. I didn’t think I had it in me to host a cat funeral before the day was over.

During my lunch break I went home only to find cat vomit all over the floor with the five o’clock news playing in the background. I had left the television on in an attempt to distract them from trying to murder each other, hoping that the mundane daytime television would put them to sleep like it always does with me. While cleaning up the mess, I wondered what had caused the illness. Part of me figured that Cat #1 was so stressed out by the invader that she couldn’t keep her food down while another part of me suspected that maybe the Tyra Banks show had come on the television while I was away.

Upon returning home from work, it was another night of scowling and hissing on their part while I attempted to decompress for the day. I tried brushing Cat #1 to bring her stress levels down a bit, but the more I caressed her, the angrier she appeared to get. I quickly gave up on that mission and headed into another room. On my way out, the brush clattered to floor behind me. I wondered if maybe Cat #1 had thrown it at me as payback for inconveniencing her usual routine of sleeping and shedding all over my clothes. Even if she had tossed it, I probably just would have been impressed since she doesn’t have thumbs.

DAY THREE – Tuesday

Imagine my delight when I woke this morning to the sound of my alarm clocking instead of the howls of feral felines. I felt refreshed and hoped that whatever had cat drama had existed the night prior had been put solved in a civil manner that involved a lot of licking. I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom for a shower. Like usual, I pulled open the cupboard below the sink to grab a towel and was greeted with a flurry of claws and spittle as Cat #1 lunged towards my face. At some point during the night, she had created herself a bunker within the cabinet in order to hide from the intruder cat. Having clearly activated the defense system that she had put into place, I reflexively slammed the door closed and heard the thump of her body smacking into the wooden barrier that now stood between us.

Shower complete, I headed into the kitchen for some coffee. Cat #2 sat nonchalantly on the couch. She glanced over at me and gave a look as if to say “when is that Cat in the cabinet just going to get over it?” I silently commiserated with her while heading out the door to work.

Upon my return home tonight I found the floor covered in a fluffy gray substance that looked an awful lot like cat hair, but I’m not one to jump to conclusions. Cat #1 is mostly gray in color and the sheer amount of fluff that now covered the living room floor led me to consider the possibility that she had recently exploded in that general area. After a quick walk around and finding the cats hiding out on polar opposite sides of the apartment I returned to the living area to ponder today’s mess.

I sat down on the couch to think a moment and soon realized that what I was staring at weren’t actually the remains of an animal or the scene of a recent brawl, but rather the remains of the throw pillow that would normally be situated beside me. I began to wonder the costs I would incur from having to eventually replace the majority of my household items. Seeing the mangled mass of fabric and stuffing also made me fear for what they might do to me in my sleep.

DAY FOUR – Wednesday

This morning was a peaceful one. Due to the peacefulness I experience upon waking, I suspected that the civil unrest might have ended. I only thought this way because it was the first time that I had been awake for more than thirty seconds without a feline making an attempt on my life. Cat #2 was noisily bathing herself on the kitchen floor while Cat #1 was once again hidden away in her cabinet bunker, possibly building a small nuclear arsenal.

When I arrived home from work, I found that Cat #1 had relocated and was now sitting atop the refrigerator glaring across the desolate plane that is my apartment. Her eyes met mine and shared a look that told me she was now staging a sit-in until the interloper was forced to leave. I attempted to give her a return look that would explain that sitting very still in one place is pretty much her normal day-to-day activity and thus I couldn’t take her threat seriously. She never moved, so I’m not sure if the message got across, but then again, how would ever I know?

DAY FIVE – Thursday

The events of this morning led me to believe that perhaps the cats had finally settled their differences and had bonded together to fight the common enemy holding them captive: me. At some point during their late night scheming session, it was decided that some sort of chemical warfare was the best way to combat me.

Both cats have made a hobby out of heavily shedding their fur. They shed when they’re hungry, they shed when they’re bored, and they shed whenever they are within radius of whatever I am eating or drinking. I hadn’t been awake for five minutes when I realized that both the entire bed and myself were covered in a pelt of cat hair. This fluffy yet durable substance acted like a primitive net, making it difficult for me to get out of the bed.

After escaping their trap before they could do horrible, four-toed deeds to me, I noticed that the cat dander in the air was downright palpable. With every breath, I inhaled more of their bio-weapon and soon I was down on my hands and knees gasping for air. I was able to crawl over to the air purifier in the corner and switched it on, cranking it up to the highest setting. I then did what any other allergy sufferer would do and tore off the filter apparatus on the back and attempted to stick my head inside of it in hopes that it would suck the tiny spore attackers from my body. In the minutes following the vacuuming of my lungs I went to work pulling individual cat hairs from my nose and mouth region. What I removed from my nasal cavity alone created a furry ball of hair roughly the size of another housecat.

I moved towards the porch door in an attempt to flee to fresher air not noticing the minefield of feline excrement that paved the way. After one squishy step I realized that they had bested me yet again and it was becoming apparent that they had the upper hand in this war. I fled toward the shower to cleanse myself of the defeat and began to barricade the bathroom door behind me with random toiletries. It appeared that I was no longer the master of the house.

DAY SIX – Friday

As quick as they were to lash out at one another, they were even quicker to bond together when one of them had the epiphany that if they both meowed simultaneously then their food bowls would fill up twice as fast. This synchronized hollering also worked to get them fresh water, treats, a clean litter box, and table scraps. When I disappointed them they were quick to squeal and scratch and bite. The only way to soothe the savages was to brush them, however they were not happy with the fact that I only owned one grooming tool. This got me a set of claw marks on my forearm. As the racket went on, following me around the apartment I wore myself out attempting to please them. It was becoming increasingly obvious that these cats now owned my soul.

DAY SEVEN – Saturday

After a sleepless night full of meowing and thunderous purring I decided that the best way to deal with the cats was simply to not be at home. I looked for any reason to be away from my apartment. After inviting myself to my best friends’ nieces birthday for some cake and games (I’d never met that side of the family before) and becoming a third wheel on another friends first date to catch a movie (he probably won’t be seeing her again), I began to tire and soon returned to my apartment to find my entertainment center slightly askew, the ceiling high bookcase knocked over, and the contents of both cats stomachs greeting me. I realized that my girlfriend’s flight was about to come in, so as quickly as I’d arrived, I took off for the airport hoping that one cat might figure out how to turn on the gas stove and another might figure out how to light a match, and the problem might just kind of take care of itself.

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I keep forgetting to write about this funny little interchange that Joe and I had a while back, and then being reminded of it every time we drive past a certain billboard which spurred it on in the first place.

So, you’ve all seen the trashy billboards for stuff like “Exposed!” or “Hott Girls in Your Area!” right? Well, there’s this one in Joe’s parents’ city, which we seem to end up driving past almost every time we’re visiting them. It’s got a photo of a white girl with tons of makeup on, her boobs squished up so they look as enormous as possible, and penciled-on eyebrows that look something like this:

…only WORSE. More jagged, a lot thicker, and way darker than the color of her bleached-orange hair. And the girl’s expression is not inviting, or even the least bit coy. She looks downright pissed off.

So, whenever we pass by it, I always end up staring at this billboard thinking, WHO finds that look sexy?!

Enter Joe. One day, he catches me staring at the billboard while we’re at a stop light, and he says jokingly, “Are you considering a career change, honey?”

And with a completely straight face, I reply, “I don’t have the eyebrows for that kind of job.”

Perplexed, Joe just sits there looking at me, waiting for an explanation. So I said…

“And by eyebrows, I mean boobs.”

Joe busts up laughing at me, his hilariously witty wife, while I’m thinking, I really did mean eyebrows…but then again, the boob thing is true too.

Yep, I’m a keeper.

***

Anyone else baffled by the kinds of “poster girls” they use for their Gentlemen’s Club-type ads?

A mortgage holder chews over whether to lock in or not. This from kramster at RE Talks 23 Nov 2009 9:29 am -

“I’ve been trying to do some research on historic interest rates to assist in determining whether or not I should lock in to a 5 year rate.  What I’m wondering is if the current difference between the BOC bank rate and the banks’ posted prime rate is typical. Currently I believe it’s a 1.75% difference (0.5 vs 2.25 prime). source http://www.bankofcanada.ca/en/rates/interest-look.html (bank rate monthly). Currently I can get prime -0.25%, for a closed variable rate of 2%. The best 5 year rate I can find is 3.99%. (I’m not with Sutton, so I can’t get their rate [3.69% - ed.]). If the spread is consistent, it would require the target bank rate to be about 2.5% or more for the fixed rate to beat a variable. According to the chart I downloaded from the BOC website, [apart from] December 2008 when the rate was dropped to 1.75%, there has never been a time in the last 10 years where the rate was better than 2.5%. I know you used to be able to get prime -1%, which would change things a little, but to get even prime -.25 requires a 3 year term. This leads me to believe that the likelihood of paying less than the current 5 year fixed rate, if I choose the variable rate, is slim to none averaged over the course of 5 years. Am I making sound assumptions here? Does it make sense to other people that the variable rate right now is a pretty high risk play with a slight chance of coming out ahead and pretty big chance of losing? The idea of going variable and locking in later is there, but will you get a chance to do this before it rises? And to me this is a little like trying to pick a bottom of a stock price. When do you jump in? There’s also the problem that the lender with best variable may not be the one with the best 5 year fixed, so if you want to change from variable to fixed you are already at a disadvantage.”

BeatBox adds, 23 Nov 10:18 -

“You can get variable at 2%. Fixed is 3.99%. A difference of 1.99%. Why would you not go variable? The spread is almost 2%. That would require the BOC raising rates significantly. Not likely to happen within the next year. A slight increase, maybe. Then you’re paying maybe 2.5% and still significantly below fixed. BTW: This doesn’t grant you the ability to max out your borrowing based on 2%. Doing that would be foolish. Maybe max out borrowing at the 3.99% allowance, and then go for the Variable. Apply the difference into your payments so that you are paying down your principle much quicker and when it comes time to renew you owe far less. I mean, the difference is about $100/month for every 100k borrowed. Over 12 months, that’s about 1% more of the principle paid down every year. That’s what I would do.”

This from bgard at greaterfool.ca on 22 Nov 2009 at 2:08 pm -

“I own a very similar house [to recently featured 265 East 24th Ave], probably in the same neighbourhood. In fact when I first saw the picture I thought it was my house. Even have a similar colour scheme…though mine is much nicer. Nicest house on crack alley as my wife likes to say. But on to the meat. My taxes (on an assessed value of 700K) are 5,000/year. Hydro and Gas are 3,000/year, for the 3 households that live here, same as in the example. Plus 1,000 for insurance. A ’single family dwelling’ in Vancouver will more than likely have at least 2 households, I’ve personally seen 4 per house. So you have to factor that in to the overall cost of RE. And taxes never go down. I’ve owned for 12 years and seen my assessments drop twice, last March (when assessments were done at mid dip) and from about ’98 to ’00. I have always paid more each year.”

Herb adds at 5:56 pm that in Ottawa, a 475K house has annual taxes of $6,140 and utilities of $5,200.