This Probably Isn't A Good Idea, Right?
Dear Guests,
I am so sorry but I couldn’t stash our dogs at our neighbor’s house like I normally do because our neighbors are having work done on their house today. I’ve shut the dogs down into the yard and they won’t bother you –other than their incredibly annoying barking. (I can’t think why we even HAVE them.)
You can see the entire property in the back from the upstairs deck or, if you really want to walk out into the yard, simply carry a tennis ball (positioned by each back door) and throw it. (Extra points if you hit the dog with the ball.) (Just kidding. Really.) Watch where you step.
Barb
PS: We’re taking the dogs when we move to New York and the neighborhood will be very quiet.
I had actually printed this out and taped it to my front door and strategically positioned the tennis balls and then I sort of remembered how terminally serious I was when *I* was shopping for a house. So, I thought better of it and took the note down and as soon as the coast was clear at my neighbor's house, I took the dogs over there. Then I left for an hour. The Realtor who called to make the appointment said she would come between 12:00 and 1:30. When I asked her to narrow it down, she said the soonest they could get there was 12:30 so I left then.
I got back at 1:18 and just assumed they'd been there.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang.
It was the Realtor and her client. "I'm so sorry. I just got back home. I'm couldn't tell if you all had already been here or not." I said. "Come on in and I'll just head on back out."
She looked at her watch and raised her freaking eyebrows.
Ibared my teeth at her smiled and got my keys and left.
But you know what? My impulse was to look at MY watch, raise MY eyebrows and then say, "Whoops, sorry, your time in my life has expired. I have wasted all the effort on you that I can spare, you narcissistic, overly made-up, rude, viciously thin, surgically-augmented B-WORD."
But, see, I think that now that I'm 43, I should be more mature. Am I really passing judgment on someone who might possibly sell my house to her nice clients? Am I really so shallow as to make an entire character assassination based on one thirty-second encounter with some poor woman whose feet were probably killing her?
Dudes. What has HAPPENED TO ME?
I think it is safe to say that I just AM NOT very mature at all. (Nanny, nanny, boo, boo. I know you are but what am I?)
I am so sorry but I couldn’t stash our dogs at our neighbor’s house like I normally do because our neighbors are having work done on their house today. I’ve shut the dogs down into the yard and they won’t bother you –other than their incredibly annoying barking. (I can’t think why we even HAVE them.)
You can see the entire property in the back from the upstairs deck or, if you really want to walk out into the yard, simply carry a tennis ball (positioned by each back door) and throw it. (Extra points if you hit the dog with the ball.) (Just kidding. Really.) Watch where you step.
Barb
PS: We’re taking the dogs when we move to New York and the neighborhood will be very quiet.
I had actually printed this out and taped it to my front door and strategically positioned the tennis balls and then I sort of remembered how terminally serious I was when *I* was shopping for a house. So, I thought better of it and took the note down and as soon as the coast was clear at my neighbor's house, I took the dogs over there. Then I left for an hour. The Realtor who called to make the appointment said she would come between 12:00 and 1:30. When I asked her to narrow it down, she said the soonest they could get there was 12:30 so I left then.
I got back at 1:18 and just assumed they'd been there.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang.
It was the Realtor and her client. "I'm so sorry. I just got back home. I'm couldn't tell if you all had already been here or not." I said. "Come on in and I'll just head on back out."
She looked at her watch and raised her freaking eyebrows.
I
But you know what? My impulse was to look at MY watch, raise MY eyebrows and then say, "Whoops, sorry, your time in my life has expired. I have wasted all the effort on you that I can spare, you narcissistic, overly made-up, rude, viciously thin, surgically-augmented B-WORD."
But, see, I think that now that I'm 43, I should be more mature. Am I really passing judgment on someone who might possibly sell my house to her nice clients? Am I really so shallow as to make an entire character assassination based on one thirty-second encounter with some poor woman whose feet were probably killing her?
Dudes. What has HAPPENED TO ME?
I think it is safe to say that I just AM NOT very mature at all. (Nanny, nanny, boo, boo. I know you are but what am I?)
Comments
As long as you kept in your head (and of course your blog-always the blog) what difference does it make.
Vapid skinny bitch (her, not you).
And yeah, I remember when I was a kid and we were selling our house. The whole three hour window where mom had to find some way to entertain us became a bit much. Here's hoping you get an offer soon so you don't have to put up with the skinny bitch much longer :)
And what suburban correspondent said.