13 December 2017

Please Buy My House

Dear People of Beaufort,

Please buy my house.

Please! It's a matter of life and death. The death of my soul, my dreams, and all hope of being able to go anywhere worthwhile in life. You have no idea how badly I want to get out of here.

In regard to this, there are a couple of helpful tidbits of information that the real estate agency might not have thought to apprise you of (through no fault of their own, I'm sure; they're busy folks, after all):

This is my husband's and my primary residence, so that means we do, in fact, live here. I very much want you to come see the house, but I'd prefer you schedule a time with your realtor to do so instead of wandering around in my yard at odd hours of the morning. Mind you, it's not that my yard can't handle people walking in it, but when I see your face looking in my window, it kind of freaks me out a little. I'm easily startled, I know.

And when you make an appointment, please show up at approximately the time you're supposed to. I like to avoid being surprised by visitors while in a state of semi-undress if at all possible -- especially when they have a key to my front door.

Also -- in case I should need to remind you -- this is a very small house. The phrase "adorable cottage" in the online listing is your biggest clue there (in case the pictures and the given square footage leave you in any doubt). Please don't ask where the second bedroom is. The answer is that the second bedroom doubles as the living room. (As I said, this house is teeny tiny.)

As much as I want to encourage all potential buyers, please don't request a showing unless you are, in fact, a potential buyer. I've already gotten my hopes up one too many times. I can assure you I am not a fabulous interior decorator, nor will my Christmas decorations win any prizes, so there's nothing to see there. Also, as I said before, you needn't come inside to figure out that it's a small house. Please don't ask to see it because you think it'll somehow be magically bigger inside than outside, like Mary Poppins' carpet bag. I can already tell you, it isn't. We fit all our stuff in here simply by... not having very much stuff.

I know I've probably painted a rather bleak picture, but I am, after all, the one who wants to move out. This isn't the house for me -- that's why I'm leaving it. However, it could be just the place for you if you're hardcore downsizing and not prone to claustrophobia. Come see it! (And hurry, please.)


Desperate to Get Out of Dodge

P.S. I don't mind if you need to use the bathroom while viewing the house, but please at least put the toilet seat down when you're done.

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