Today I did something I have never done: walked into a realtor's office. I've walked into a realtor's home before, which had entire rooms filled with homoerotic paintings and tiki torches by the pool, so I was a bit disappointed by the beige walls and brown carpeting in the real estate office.
It went like this:
"Hi!"
"Hi! Can I help you?"
"I think I want to buy a house. Or even a shack, maybe a hovel. Something with a toilet and electricity would be good."
"Ummm, did you get one of these?" [hands me a printout of recent listings]
"Nope, let's see..."
"This is our cheapest one right now."
[*gasp splutter*] "Do cheaper ones ever pop up?"
"Well, yeah, but, you know..."
[I snap my fingers, realtor nods] "Can you keep me on a list of hopefuls and call me when it's time to pounce?"
"Sure! Let's get your name..."
And so with a bit of chit-chat, scribbling, horrified chest-grasping, consolation pats, and some warnings not to get my hopes up, I trotted back to the car a new woman. A woman with a realtor. Oooer, there's the slim possibility that I might turn 30 with a mortgage to go with my arthritis! How exciting. I want a garden with the aforementioned zombie-tripping mini-fence and tiny red door, and a wrought-iron chandelier (will find some way to attach to corrugated tin roof), and a claw-foot bathtub. I've seen a few being used as cow troughs in some of the fields, maybe I can pinch one into the VW without anyone noticing...
Full of fantasy today.
2 comments:
I love clawfoot bathtubs! Mmm...deep soaky. Yes.
There's a grownup feeling you get when you have a realtor. They work for you! Like a slavy-person.
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