A neighbor caught wind of the “situation” in our household (wonder what that wind smelled like?) and wanted to know if Mike and I were selling soon, because she had a friend just DYING to get into this neighborhood and could she give her my number? I said yes, and less than 24 hours later, a Kate-Gosselin look-alike with more weathered skin and highlights was standing on my front porch. Downsizin’, y’all! She just couldn’t wait to get into the house and start tearing it apart.
Reason #243,862 I don’t want to list my own house: having to listen to the people walking through your house make inane comments.
This woman, poor thing, became the living, breathing effigy of everything I hate about the Far West End. In her tiny little package, North Face jacket, Ugg boots and Coach handbag, her manicured acrylics flailed around her as she pointed in disgust about the things that perplexed her.
The kitchen is too small. Too dark. The island would HAVE to be enlarged. The sunroom - who needs it? Make it a morning room. Bump out the ceiling into a cathedral ceiling, round the walls, add a chandelier. Rip down a wall, get rid of those RIDICULOUS closets on the third floor. Her builder would definitely have to be called; last time they looked at a house “like ours”, it was a mere $80K (it was cheap, she exclaimed) to renovate.
We have a pretty nice house. It’s big to me - but apparently 3600 square feet of living space and 3 1/2 bathrooms is just a bit confining to her. Only 2 bathrooms on the 2nd floor? Whatever would she and her 3 other family members DO? It must be hard downsizing from 6,000 square feet to a measly 3600, not to mention the horror of 3 1/2 bathrooms and no built in fireplace on the patio. I’m not sure how I’ve lived this long in this dump of a house - it’s really quite distressing.
She was horrified when she asked who our “cleaning lady” was and what “lawn service” we used; I had no answer, because we use neither. We cut our own grass and clean our own toilets. Quelle horreur!
Why does she want to move? Aside from buying a vacation property, they are unhappy with their current neighborhood. Too many “ethnic” types. I felt like telling her a dirty Mexicana owned this house, and would she mind all the grease and poverty we give off? She couldn’t WAIT to get into a proper neighborhood, devoid of any undesirables. They are already members of the swanky golf club here (we only belong to the “hood” version of it), it’s just so perfect, she loves all the women on my street. She’s blond, big boobs, and already has the designer jeans necessary to get onto our street. It’s a perfect fit. The whole time I heard, “You must be so sad to be forced to move from this neighborhood”, I nodded emphatically, internally screaming, “THANK YOU GOD GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
Let’s hope she buys it. I might even PAY her to buy it. I shouldn’t joke, because that’s exactly what’s going to have to happen in order to shed my suburban neighborhood skin.
