Well, it turns out that there are nice places out there in our price range, though if I want to live in a neighborhood that doesn't feature gang tags, I'm not getting my own office. I'll either have to share one with Attila the H, or carve out a small workspace in a corner of the dining room.

My forbears in the covered wagons . . . used rice-paper screens for that purpose, I'm pretty sure. They coped. Note to self:

On days that there will be open houses, or showings of the house to realtors and/or buyers, do not—

• fry fish in the kitchen;
• leave old furniture lying around outside;
• have a broken doorbell, thereby forcing the buyer's agent to knock on a heavy "screen" door (the security type, made of thick steel);
• leave the bathroom filthy;
• leave overripe fruit in the kitchen;
• cram twice as much furniture into the space as it was designed to hold;
• leave the drapes closed, and the lights off; or
• leave the television on.

The dress-rehearsal is on Friday, when our agent will come by with the papers for us to sign in the afternoon. I'm planning on losing my heroin virginity that very morning, just to be safe.

When we got home I informed my husband that he should order pizza. He did so, and then informed me that my life would be simpler if I wouldn't think about politics and economics quite so much.

"Just blog about . . . recipes, and stuff like that," he told me with a wink.

The scary part is that for just a moment that sounded pretty good.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 07:08 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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