Friday in the smelly office

Brrr... It is cold in my office. And stinky. TGIF, I guess, seeing I can go home a little early. And... I'M NOT SEEING ANY ESTATE AGENTS TODAY!

This is indeed a reason to celebrate. I don't have to be dragged through houses that are a) way out of my price range; b) hell holes fit only for complete destruction; c) so far away from the area we're looking in that we'd need to commute by plane.

I don't get it - how does "3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, with double garage" get translated in an agent's brain to "1 bedroom, 1 bathroom, 1 parking"?!

And thank goodness TSC is in construction, because those agents will tell you anything to get you to buy. "That little crack there," they croon sweetly, pretending not to notice the rift as wide as my finger reaching from floor to ceiling. "That's nothing. A coat of paint will do the job."

Uh huh. That's about as likely as a band-aid fixing an artery that's been sliced open, dude.


Forgive me if any of you are estate agents. Maybe you're a nice person. The mess of morons (yes, that is the collective noun for morons according to the Doodles-dictionary) that I have met over the past month or so, however, has not left me much faith in your species.

Anyway... In other news (and I promise I will get over the subject soon), my birthday was great. Thanks for all the well wishes. If it wasn't for the damp carpet under my desk, I'm sure I've have felt all warm and fuzzy.

I was spoilt rotten (just like the carpet, which is spolit and rotten) and have lovely loot, including new oil paints and a beeeeg canvas, baking goodies, summer AND winter slippers (note to self: only hint for a specific present to one person); perfume and ANOTHER stick blender (note to self: clarify present hints with deaf grandparents. Electric beater and stick blender obviously sound similar. Or something).

Dinner was fab. If you're ever in Pretoria, visit Nuvo Cuisine. The best chocolate brownies I have ever had! Yum.

Right, I'm now over the birthday thing. For this year. And, to conclude this long-winded Friday post, and for the sake of tradition, here's a funny (or not so funny) for you:

House hunting hell

Good grief! If there's one thing I don't want to do on a Sunday is drive around looking at show houses. But that's what we did for five hours yesterday.

Maybe if I hadn't spend the majority of my Sundays as a child being dragged through other people's houses by my parents (who, for some inexplicable reason think it's actually fun), I might not hate it to quite the extent that I do.

At least we had company. R and A, our best "couple friends"* in Joburg, are also considering buying a house. But A is currently away visiting her mother in KwaZulu-Natal, so R is on his lonely ownsome. He thought it would be fun to tag along with us to house shop. Hah! How wrong can a man be?!

TSC and I are impossible - he's from the construction industry so he's uber-pedantic about structural issues and waterproofing problems, and I am just pedantic for no good reason. So we make our way around the properties like two secretary birds, with our hands clasped behind our backs, picking out faults.

"It needs to be repainted."
"Yes, and WHAT is this supposed to be? A design feature? Phah!"
"The rooms are small."
"And there's no cupboard space."
"The carpets need to be replaced."
"Immediately!"
"Hmmm... what would make anyone paint a room with mustard stripes?"
"Colour blindness, perhaps?"

The estate agents, with their large stick-on smiles follow us around, getting more and more neurotic by the minute, spinning lies at a rate of knots ("The huge, littered open field next the house is not a security risk... it just means you won't have to put up with noisy neighbours"). And R, poor man, probably had a massive migraine after the 15th house had been picked apart by the two house-busters.

But, being the resident creative genius, I decided that once 5pm had passed and the estate agents had packed their smiles away (with their "On show" boards), a drink was in order. and so we happened upon the ever-so-cute Cantina Tequila just off Cedar Rd. AND... It just so happened to be happy hour, so all cocktails were half price. Score!

They don't have a menu, so you just tell them what you want (a Cosmopolitan for me, a Long Island Iced Tea for TSC and a Caipirinha for R) and they make it up for you, with a bit of a twist. The slice of orange peel in my Cosmo gave it a lovely tangy taste. Mmmm... yum.

Being well-behaved, we declined the tequila that was poured straight from the bottle down the throats of eager patrons. "Next time!" shouted the waiter. Maybe.

But for now, I'd settle for a cabin in the woods where none of my freelance clients can harass me!


*Friends that both of you get along with that you see as a couple. Very rare species.