Stating the Obvious

I wrote this when we listed our house on the market years ago. Now we are about to do it again. Ugh!

We just listed our house on the market and we have started to get showings. Our agent has set up the online service that tells me what agents (and their clients) thought of the property. Most agents don’t respond with comments, but the ones that do could be very helpful, if only they as people weren’t mostly complete goobers!

We’ve had 7 showings in 5 days and only one person has responded to the comments so far. She had several complimentary things to say and pointed out an issue about the pool that was actually a repaired issue, but made me realize that most people would not know that. Then at the end she said she would talk to her clients to gage their interest level and “Surprisingly enough, they didn’t think the bathrooms were all that bad.”

Why did she bother to say that? What good does it do for her to point out that our bathrooms are not as big as the new houses in the boonies of North Dallas? Perhaps she might have clued into that fact when she read on the listing that our house was built in 1960. Constructive criticism is a good thing. I want to hear about anything I need to fix or that needs to be addressed. One person told me yesterday that an outlet cover was off of our outlet outside. That is good information. I didn’t know it and I can fix it. But I can’t fix the bathrooms of our house. Surely they realize that all the houses of this era, in this neighborhood have small bathrooms. I and all my neighbors live with them just fine. Could it be that while I won’t go so far as to proclaim that size doesn’t matter, when it comes to bathrooms, they don’t have to take up half the house?

In a perfect world, we would all have bigger bathrooms. And marble floors and chandeliers and flowers in the garden that grow seasonally without any maintenance. And no weeds. But that goes without saying I think.

Creepy Hospitals

I had a minor surgical thing awhile back. There is something disconcerting about giving your clothes and your belongings to a stranger dressed in an alien bluish green uniform. You allow them to poke you with needles and hook you up to cords that don’t seem to have any purpose. They wheel you down a long cold white hallway. The hallways of a hospital are what I picture the light being when they say “go towards the light”. In my mind it is always a long white hallway I would be going towards, with the world behind me full of the people and places I love. It’s a long white hallway that leads to some other place. I picture a glorious beautiful place at the end of the hallway. In this case it is just a big white room with lots of people in similar alien uniforms. All of them talking over me to each other. They inject something into one of the plastic cords attached to my arm and I can no longer follow their conversations. When I talk there is a round of laughter in the room. I wonder what I am saying that is funny. Then suddenly I wake up in a different room, achy and blurry. Slowly I wake up and eventually I go home and wonder what the hell happened.

Dallas Aquarium

I went to the aquarium this weekend and didn’t get one good picture of a fish. They are kind of evil little creatures anyway. Cold blooded and hiding tiny little teeth that can rip the skin from your bones. And what’s with the not breathing air thing? That is definitely not right. I think if you really study the original text of the bible on the original scrolls you will find that it was a fish that convinced Eve down the path of destruction.

Mornings in Europe

I simply can not describe how wonderful are the breakfast’s in Europe. It was my favorite time of day there and I am not a breakfast person. In the states breakfast consists of maybe a coffee on the way to work or perhaps piece of a left over bagel in the coffee room around 10:30. It is a rare occasion that I bother to get up early enough for breakfast. On most of those occasions it involves my mother being in town and it is only after hearing numerous lectures about breakfast being the most important meal of the day that I drag myself out of bed in time.

However, in Europe there is no greater meal. Fresh orange juice, croissants and pastry’s, yogurt and of course strong coffee with lots of cream and sugar. Hard boiled eggs, cheeses and breads, ham. All fresh. All delicious. I ordered it in my room everyday that I was in Belgium. It was the best part of my day. In the security, privacy and comfort of my little hotel room, I would spend an hour or so savoring each bite. I could live there happy forever if I had the means and breakfast.I can not get this kind of breakfast in the states. It is simply not possible. I don’t know why. I could squeeze the juice myself and maybe with some training I could learn to make the pastries. I could buy a good espresso maker and keep half and half on hand. But it simply would not be as good.

Maybe it’s the funny accents. Maybe it’s the close proximity of another country and its different culture. Maybe it’s the monopoly colored money. Whatever it is, since I’ve been back, I miss it terribly.

An Adjective Point of View

I heard a song on the radio today with some interesting lyrics. The singer sang that whenever he is asked where he comes from he always says the same thing and it was some elaborate description about his all American town. I wonder why we don’t do more of that. Whenever anyone asks me where I come from I just say “Dallas”. That’s it. Nothing more. Kind of boring really. A good portion of the English language is dedicated to adjectives, and yet as a society we only use a few descriptive words on a regular basis.

Maybe when going outside for a smoke we could instead say “I am riding the elevator downstairs to breath in the fresh air outside while filling my lungs with the rejuvenating smoke that is contained so beautifully within this tiny stick of nicotine.” Or maybe when taking our dog for a walk we could say instead “we are going outside to work on our inner peace by setting an even walking pace and listening to the rhythm of our footsteps along with the tinkle of our canine’s urination on the neighbors pink begonias.” Or how about instead of just saying I think I’ll make lunch we could say “I will go to arrange a feast of bread and peanut butter dappled with the nectarous goo that is strawberry jam.”

But then maybe I just miss watching commercials since we installed our tivo.

Streaking Losers

This is the first post to my blog. Nothing astounding, mind you. Just a beginning.

I have a Fantasy Baseball team named the Streaking Losers. They are called this because last season, despite having a pretty-good team, I lost most of my games. I was one of the highest scoring teams in the league, but it seemed that every time I played another team they were the highest scorer for the week. In the end I lost 21 out of 26 games. It was a record setting worst season by a team with such a high score. I mention this because it is a good example of how unlucky I can be. I believe that I have a negative charge or something about me that makes me unlucky. Some day in the future geeky scientists in white lab coats will discover the quality that makes some people win every prize drawing they enter while others get stopped at every red light. It will explain all of the unexplainable unluckinesses that befall me on a daily basis. Then AOL will sell little devices that hook onto your belt or load into a chip in your arm and alter each person’s luck factor. I know this will happen. Of course it will probably happen the day after I die. That’s my luck.

Anyway, I have kept the name out of sheer laziness and this year I am finally winning games. Last week I was the high scorer for the week (which means I won money). This doesn’t mean that I have suddenly become lucky. It just means that my bad luck has moved to some other arena of my life. Any day now I’ll let you know where it is.