1,187 words. Approximately 5 minutes, 56 seconds. Audio version
here.
Well, it’s finally happened. The “For Sale” signs have finally reached my little corner of the neighborhood, and in spite of my best efforts, my husband believes that we, too, should sell.
He gives me reasons that sound all well and good on the surface. Reasons like, “We’ve got
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Comments 31
Hahahaha!
even if I don’t know their real names, even if I’ve only seen them through a crack in my blinds, even if they used to give my house the side-eye every time they walked past.
These ongoing spy-ventures and the paranoid abstraction on the current social situation always crack me up.
I'll tell you what's horrifying about selling your house: repairing, painting, sprucing it up, and de-cluttering. It's enough to make you want to live out your days without ever moving again... /o\
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I am absolutely dreading the day when I actually have to put my house up on the market. We haven't even finished painting over the paint we inherited from the previous owners, and I have the sinking feeling that the literal moment we finish, we'll need to put a fresh coat on the house to make it ready for sale.
Or I could just be one of those people who never moves again. That sounds really appealing.
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*Twilight Zone theme intensifies*
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Thanks for the comment; glad I could make you laugh. :)
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