Going
Friday May 21, 2026
Given how high-strung I was last week, this week’s calm is confusing. There have still been several things that have pissed me off to the high heavens, but things are more or less progressing smoothly at the moment.
On Tuesday, we paid the first three deposits on the project, and on Wednesday, we had the first design meeting, reviewing the layout of the house from basement to attic. It was… pretty electric, to be honest. We basically played Sims with our real-life home. We added a couple of windows, turned the first-floor half-bath into a full bath, toyed around with what the finished attic/basement would look like, and made some tweaks to the elevation, but no really substantial (aka cost-increasing) changes from the existing plan. We’ll have a few more of these meetings to iron out the details before we finalize the production plans and apply for permits. It’s going to be a pretty nice house.
(Sidebar: Holy shit, is it annoying how difficult it is to pay companies these days. I’m not writing a paper check because a) we don’t have any after they burned in the fire, and b) it’s 2026; I shouldn’t need to wait for somebody to cash a paper check. You can’t make payments from most savings accounts; you need a checking account. Your checking account has to offer electronic checks, or you’re paying a wire fee. Our SoFi checking account requires a company to be in their existing database to pay them, so of course, some random builder in Massachusetts isn’t. USAA does allow you to pay a new biller, but their system limits payments to a max of $49,999.99, and it showed errors the first two times I tried it. By sheer luck, I noticed that the funds had been deducted anyway, so after 20 minutes with a live chat agent, I confirmed the system was working, and the checks had been issued, but from transferring the funds to the right account to actually making the payments, it was like a 4-day process, and it’s still gonna be another week until the money actually reaches builder Scott. How is this not easier?)
Also on Tuesday, we signed the loan disclosures and are one step closer to underwriting. Our loan officer, Rick Garber, has said he’s not worried about us qualifying, but we’re applying for more than $1 million, so pretty hard not to feel nervous about that. (We applied for a little more than we actually need as a buffer, and the actual principal will be lower once code, recoverable depreciation, and a couple more out-of-pocket costs are paid. No, we cannot afford a million-dollar loan.)
Also, also on Tuesday, our USAA adjuster, Keith Morry, ignored yet another call from our public adjuster, Dan Davison. Lindsay and I spoke to an attorney who suggested we write a Section 93(a) demand letter, threatening to report USAA to the Massachusetts Office of Consumer Affairs. The attorney felt that Keith’s continuous refusal to communicate with Dan in a timely manner and his attempt to drop an HVAC inspection on me with one hour’s notice last week, after already agreeing in writing to issue a supplement payment to cover the system’s replacement, likely constituted violations of state law. The goal of the demand letter is to basically inform USAA’s compliance officers that Keith is breaking the law and give them an opportunity to settle before we issue a formal complaint with the state or move forward with the reference process. Failing to respond to the letter or provide a reasonable resolution would make USAA liable to pay damages if they lost a court ruling against us. ChatGPT is Evil, but it helped me draft a reasonable letter.
Naturally, after all of this stress and mental fatigue, Keith told Dan on Thursday that he’s working on a revised estimate, so all of this may have been for naught. (Which, like, GOOD. Pay us another $100k and let’s be done with it.)
Navigating the system is so grown-up and boring, and it has completely consumed my life recently. I hate it, but I also hate how much I’m thriving on it. Rebuilding a home after a fire shouldn’t be such a boondoggle, but I get a real rush from each little victory that brings us closer to making this house a reality. It’s so toxic and depressing that I’m serotonin-feeding like a rogue alveoli on the lower intestine of the system.
At times, I forget to think about anything else. So, also, also, also on Tuesday, I was relieved to receive an overwhelming dose of future nostalgia on our apartment’s little deck, holding my hand in the hot, sticky rain as summer thunder rolled through the sky. Future nostalgia is the term I’m using for those uniquely paternal moments of recalling something from your past and feeling an uncontrollable excitement to recreate or share it with your child one day.
A heat storm—like sunny rain or the low tide stink of an ocean village—is one of those little paradoxes of life I can’t wait for Des to experience. Being warm in rain. The natural world makes no sense and perfect sense and serves as a wonderful foil to the preternatural chaos of our own lives. Life offers symbols and legends to those who need meaning. The interpretations are our own, and the way we do it is such a big part of who each of us is. The humidity of a thunderstorm pulls you from spreadsheets and insurance claims to puddle jumping and summer afternoon wall ball in the rain, reminding you that your next childhood is just beginning. There are stones to overturn, paths to discover, games to play, skin to scrape, stains to make, hearts to break, people to love, people to hate — and we’ll have no control over any of it.
This project is consuming me, but I’m beginning to understand why I let it. Yes, I’m more of an adult than I’ve cared to admit, but Lindsay and I are also laying a literal foundation to live vicariously through our child(ren). The mania makes sense.
I’m off to Savannah tomorrow for cousin Elliott Matticks’ bachelor party, and then back on Sunday to co-host Neima Patterson on her first visit to Boston from LA. Hopefully, I’ll be enough of a functioning human to be a decent tour guide on Monday.
One Book: Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
Lindsay and I went to a bookstore pop-up at Hannah’s Brewing in Melrose on Sunday, and invited Shauna and Ethan Shaw along. They couldn’t make it, but we got to book talk in our little group chat. I complained about how tedious I was finding Blood Meridian. I don’t know if I just needed to get my sourpuss out or if I reached a better part of the book, but the first time I picked it up after that complaint, I could hardly put it down. Finished the final 250 pages by Wednesday, a rate I haven’t matched since Lonesome Dove.
To be clear, I far preferred Lonesome Dove, but I chewed on that book. Blood Meridian, I just started whipping through because it is relentless, grotesque, hateful action. McCarthy’s style isn’t my favorite, but I don’t know any author who captures the banality of evil better than him.
One Object: Balloons
When we went to San Diego for Emma and Alan Dritley’s wedding, we introduced Des to Brittany Fantasia’s son, Nico, born just a few weeks after D. Brittany had devised a clever entertainment scheme by tying a balloon string to a hair tie and putting that on Nico’s ankles. Desmond was not amused when we tried it in San Diego. Nonetheless, Lindsay bought two balloons at Dollar Tree to try it again. The past few weeks, he has become obsessed with his balloons. His insistence on just holding a balloon while being carried or doing activities around the apartment is the cutest friggin’ thing I’ve ever seen.
One Song: Nick Perry - Sharts
Isn’t this pleasant? To Lindsay’s great delight, Desi has been responding positively to the filthiest, most explosive sharting (shit-farting) noises that daddy can make. When Des is having a meltdown, all daddy needs to do is scrunch his lips and blow monumental streams of hypothetical doo-doo butter, and all is well again. Des has even started mixing in his own shart noises between coos and demon-possessed growls. No phase lasts very long at this age, but I hope this one is here to stay.
One Food: Beef
Des tried several new foods this week, but meatballs were far and away his favorite. We didn’t doubt that he was our child, but this is a positive sign. Anyone got any recs on where in the North End we can walk in for lunch with a stroller on Monday? Somewhere with good meatballs for our son to mash into a paste, slam against his mouth, and then throw on the floor?