Anyone know a good website featuring common layouts of Baltimore rowhomes?

Update:

Here’s a pretty cool rowhouse layout. It’s probably a bit wider than anything I could find in Baltimore - plus, I think it’s a new place, so scratch that - but I like the garden courtyard with the rear-facing garage. Instead of a seprate apartment, that above space could easily become a studio of some sort.

and a tear to my eye. yeah mother fucker!

There was, last night, an entry titled “Why Bother?” with no message below it. (That entry no longer exists).

Sometimes someone will say something and I’ll start thinking about it, and that’ll lead me to thinking about something else, and that to something else and so on, and then by the end of all the thinking, I feel bummed and blue about a great many things - relationships, work, money, life, etcetra - and then I say or do something that certain people interpret in ways that I didn’t intend.

Last night, driving around in the rain trying to make a buck, my though process pushed me to thinking about why I started blogging. It’s funny - at the happy hour, Baltimore Roll asked me why I started blogging, and I told her an extended version of “fame and fortune”, but that is why I started blogging - I had visions of being a fiery lefty-partisan blogger, making cash by the barrel-full through advertising. I quit a management position (not a very good one) to deliver full time (sixty hours a week between two shops, and I had been doing it part time when I was managin’), and my logic was, “I want to write. I will write a blog, and I will try to write fiction.”

I mean, clearly, the blog hasn’t gone where I thought it would, but I’m totally cool with that — uh, my life hasn’t exactly gone where I thought it would either. But really what upsets me is that the only writing I’m doing is on this blog — dammit, I want to write the Great American Novel, or at least, the Great Pizza Shop Expose.

I feel an absence of purpose, and a lot of drift - I need out of the rut. And, back to the top of the post, if I ever sound super fucking cryptic, the lesson is that you should pay absolutely zero attention to me.

(writing this post has already made me feel about fifty times better, now if only the sun would come out)

Next year I desire to purchase a home. Preferably, a rowhome. Preferably, in Baltimore City. Potentially in Remington (can’t afford anywhere else).

I would like:

- a furnished basement
- my own washer/dryer
- private parking (I’m not certain I understand the concept of a “parking pad”?)
- convenience to 83 (30th St, mayhaps?).
- a nice dive bar within half-a-block walking distance.

I would not like:

- to pay out the ass for a place
- to have to do extensive renovations
- to install a video surveillence system of the “parking pad”

That’s really all I’ve got today. I was going to write this big long thing about why I’m feelin’ blue, but I think it would depress me, so I’m going to hit “post” and go back to watching the History Channel. They have a special on hidden passages.

(How much square footage does a rowhome usually have?)

(The photo was the first one that game in when I did an image search on Google for “Baltimore rowhome“)

(Even though I’m not a huge pool player, and certainly not a good pool player, I will buy a pool table for my basement and put in a bar, even though I don’t drink or entertain enough to have a bar. Plus, I’d have to buy a pool table cover or ze felines would rip up the felt, fucking cats)

“Woah, dude, brush!”

Lawmakers crafting energy legislation approved an amendment Wednesday to extend daylight-saving time by two months, having it start on the last Sunday in March and end on the last Sunday in November.

They say we’re extending daylight savings by two months, but as far I was aware, we already set our clocks back the last Sunday of October, so doesn’t that only gain us a month there? Plus, didn’t we change our clocks forward the first sunday of April? That’s only a gain of a week … right?

I’m so confused.

Mr. X is a former employee of the Indy Shop who, after being fired for being a jackass, called Gary at two in the morning to threaten his wife and kids. This was several months ago, and since then, Mr. X had been working at another pizza shop in Lutherville. Then he got fired, arrested for failing to show for his court-ordered drug-treatment, then arrested again the other night for grand theft auto.

So when Mr. X’s crackwhore came into the store today, Gary told her quite firmly, “Crackwhore, get the fuck out of here before I call the police.”

Crackwhore was quite offended but got the message.

Well, sorta.