Sunday, April 13, 2008

Being Nice

The couple who are buying our house are military. He has been stationed overseas and has only seen the house in pictures, so today I agreed they could come over and look. It was a favor I did for the buyers before they take over the building that was my home for so long and repaint everything I so lovingly and tastefully painted in colors I don't want to know about.

They came over. Their parents came over. The agents came over. Total strangers came over. There were 'leventy-million people and a circus elephant in my house, opening doors, poking in closets, and terrifying the cats (who are only now, 3 hours later, emerging from the various cracks and crevices in which they hid.)

The Husband warned me ahead of time to be nice. I promised I would not hit anyone with a broom. I let them in. I talked politely. After about an hour and a conversation about tattoos (both were inked) and smiling and being nice, I said, very politely "I need to ask you to get the hell out of my house..."

Yes, I actually said that, with a big smile that actually showed in my eyes. They laughed. I laughed. The real estate agents laughed. And they all left.

I have a gift.

I am also very, very tired. Being nice to people for a whole hour just takes it all out of me.

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