My house is currently being shown by a realtor to an average of two potential buyers each day. They come and they go, and, in real estate as well as trail etiquette, they take only photographs (as far as I can tell) and leave only footprints.
Technically.
Not to abruptly change the subject, but have you ever sat on a suede* couch? If you did, I bet you drew pictures on it with your finger, because the material shows light when you brush it one way, dark the other. It’s a very impressionable fabric. I have one of those couches. It’s tan-ish, it’s comfy, and I like it very much.** It’s in my living room, because it’s a couch and that’s where couches seem to prefer to live. They like it dry and temperate with a little bit of soft lighting and a nice view of their territory, as well as easy access to the street in case they have a conflict with the armchair*** and need to make a quick getaway.
But I digress.
All you really need to know is that strangers are cautiously making their way through my home at a slow but steady rate, pausing before each window and wondering to themselves “would I be happy to see the wall of that four-plex for the rest of my life? Is there more to life than this?,” and, I have a suede couch.
That brings us to the nub of the story, in which I arrived home after a multitude of showings, to find the house in perfect order (except for my motion-sensing porch light which each and every visitor insists on turning off even though I prefer it to be on, because how else will I know when masked murders are at my door, late at night?). I had even started wondering if the realtor had asked his clients to take their shoes off at the door, or if he’d swept afterwards, as they’d left no sign of dirt or shoe treads. Then I saw my couch. On it, there was, to be blunt, a butt-print. A very large butt-print. I am aware that suede butt-prints look larger than one’s regular butt-print, but, this butt must have been rather expansive.
And it had sat on my couch.
My friends, perhaps this is typical. Perhaps this is what life must be from now on, endless day after endless day, eating with only one fork and one bowl, wearing the same hoodie and jeans and picking up individual hairs as my dog sheds them, scuffing out strangers’ butt-prints from my couch with a toothbrush.
But somewhere, deep in my soul, a tiny voice cries, “No!”
* I’m not a home designer and I’m not exactly sure that they make suede couches, or even if I know what suede is. However, the word “suede” sounds like the way my couch looks and feels.
** If you are interested in buying this couch for a shockingly low price, visit my retail website at dubble u dubble u dubble u dot yes you need it dot com slash money for me
*** Also for sale, a steal at $400 smackeroos. You can’t find a paisley print like this anywhere outside an 80’s horror film. What a find! Check out pictures at my vintage retail website at dubble u dubble u dubble u dot it’s not ugly it’s vintage dot com slash even more money for me
I feel a need to read this out loud to your uncle Rich... Maybe at Thanksgiving...
ReplyDeleteYes please.
ReplyDeleteWait, why does only my family comment on here? That makes me feel unsuccessful.
ReplyDeleteAgain...Wait! I am lasagna! Of course I feel unsuccessful! Obvs.
ReplyDelete