So last weekend I was out on the west coast doing whatever it is I do on the weekends, and I noticed something interesting.
There's this little bungalow around the corner from where we live out there. Two bedrooms, but just. One bathroom. It rests on about a quarter of an acre. Most of the front yard is scrub and driveway. Up until last week it's been selling for $1.35 million. That's right. You read it correctly. One point three five. Every time I passed it during the last few months I got acid reflux. How dare they?, I asked myself. And the answer came back immediately via that little, cynical inner voice that is my constant companion. "Because they think they can get it," he said.
He's a pain in the butt, that guy, but I generally listen to him. He's often right.
In the last few weeks or so, I've noticed that the sign, which was all eager and bright and bushy tailed up until then (if a sign can be bushy-tailed), had lost one of its hooks and was now hanging askew...
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