Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Yesterday, as I was letting my oldladydog out to potty and taking out some trash (two birds, one stone), a man in a neighbor's yard called to me.

"Excuse me, miss? Did you recently sell your home?"

"No sir, I rent. Actually, the landlord's number is right there *points to for rent sign in neighbor's yard*"

"Okay, well, I'm just going to take a couple pictures of this house, your house and the one on the other side. I just wanted to warn you in case you see me walking around, so you don't worry."

"Cool, thanks for telling me"

cut to 20 minutes later, as I'm getting in my car, and he's walking down my driveway. I suddenly take notice of his shirt. He works for some demolition company.

Now, I beckon to him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Umm, are they going to knock my house down?!?!"

He takes his hand and covers up the logo on his shirt. "I'm not at liberty to say ma'am."

"Okay, well, hypothetically then. Should I be looking for a new place to live?"

"I couldn't say. I'm just doing a bid, honestly."

I thanked him for his time. Here's the deal: if they're taking bids, it's means demolishing my house is probably on the agenda for 2010.

Goddamn it! I hate moving.