As the economy sinks deeper into the shithole and the lies of the presidential race seem stupider, I just may be losing my grip. Work was crazy-making today. More calls, phone messages and emails than a normally competent chick could handle.
Worse yet, we were waiting for the little puffs of white smoke or distant drumming or email or cell phone buzz to signify that our real estate agent had talked with their real estate agent and the papers were delivered and the dance had begun. M. and I made an offer on a tiny 1950s tract house, a mere 7 minute walk from Pacifica State Beach aka Linda Mar Beach. (Click on Linda Mar for the webcam of the real deal.)
If all goes well we will be watching gray whales migrating south while the sun drops west into the Pacific this winter before heading back to dinner in our gourmet kitchen.
Otherwise, I suppose we’ll keep on slogging through in search of other affordable digs. It’s terrible when imagination takes over as you wait to discover if the owners find you worthy to discuss and hammer out some kind of agreeable deal. While the mortgagees determine your value per pound.
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Hey,
Just saw this and wanted to wish you good luck on the possible purchase! That being said, I have no idea what the hell kind of tree that is — since it looks pretty much like all trees in a California backyard look like in my imaination; notwithstanding the redwoods that abound, I think the offical name is the “California Backyard Tree”. Let me know how it goes.
Ted
can i come fishing there good eating on them there whaley things so my icelandic mate reckons
as for the fruit tree thingy out the backyard
dont as they attract bats
and the roots destroy the house foundations
and when your forest fires get out of control
the burn down and fall on the house
arnt i the cheery one
im having a bad morning
its about to cost me $450 to gety my car brakes fixed
still the suns up
and the bikes hot
have a good one
and you can always distill sea water to put on the garden
vdea
Everyone is welcome to visit. Unfortunately, our little bit of real estate isn’t likely to be the one of which I wrote this week. Dumb, stupid owner.
Dvea, you’re becoming like Job. Robbery in Hungary, bad brakes, what’s next? I think spots.