Ever since M. ran his marathon, he’s been thinking of a new outlet. A project, if one will, and, honestly, I’m not the one who will. You see, he wants the kind of project that will bring togetherness. In his mind, such a project would involve cleaning up and straightening out and otherwise working on the old department.

I, though, am as devious as I am lazy. As we talked about what to do to improve our apartment the logical question is: should we stay here? But, the old market is dropping, and foreclosures are cropping up like, well, crops. The kind of market slump that makes you think if not now (or probably early 2009), then when?

Of course, dropping real estate in this neighborhood still means looking in the realm of half a million pieces of little green paper, or their paperwork equivalent. I mean, I can think without hyperventilating about six figures or a series of five zeroes. I sold a place for that many numbers and profited in that realm. But, $400,000 to $700,000 is a fucking buttload of money.

I’m fucking praying we find something on the bottom of that scale. Only, really, because them’s a lot of 000000s. I’m just a simple girl with a tiny appreciation for small change.

One thing I’m learning on this togetherness thang, which so far has involved surfing the internet and emailing each other listings, is where to find the ghetto areas on Google maps. The key is pretty much highway placement. Instead of the wrong side of the tracks, in this state it’s wrong side of the freeway. Ain’t nothing like an abutment and fencing with razor wire to give you a feel for “coming home.”

We’ll probably meet up with a real estate chick this weekend. Even if we don’t buy something for a long time or forever, I can get my voyeuristic swerve on. Nothing beats sneering at others’ tzotchkes.

Better yet, the last time I considered real estate was 1995. That was back in those bleak, dire days, before commonplace broadband and iPhones and speed, pictures, weblogs and all. Now, every single fucking listing pretty much is pimped out with indoor/outdoor views, panoramas, maps and aerial views.

Betterest still, if you are looking on the ghetto border, the photos help you decide. I wish I could find it, the one picture that struck me. Nothing says drop cash on my pad than a real estate agents posed room shot of a mattress on the floor draped with an army green spread. It made me cry inside.

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