I...will...call...the...estate...agents...today...
I don't want to, but if I will myself hard enough, I'm sure I can convince myself to call. Why would I do this to myself? Am I complete masochist? Sometimes. For instance, I like to play with the candles on restaurant tables and dip my finger in the hot wax... But I digress... No, the reson for this seemingly daft decision to contact the soul suckers is that I have decided that the estate agents are indeed the lesser of two evils.
*Gasp!* What could possible be worse than a mess of estate agents?!
My current neighbours.
NEED TO MOVE! If it's not the Celine Dion wannabee upstairs screaming, "A new daaaaay has beguuuun!" at the top of her lungs at 1am, it's the bunch of blokes on the top floor that chuck their cigarrette butts and the occasional broken glass off their balcony onto the grass in front of my veranda, or the troupe of drunken fools that howl at the moon from the other side of the complex.
Yes, I am grumpy today. Why? Let's think... "It's all coming back, all coming back to me now..." Celine was at it again this morning. No sleep equals very grumpy journo. Hmmm... This is a good time to call the estate agents, while I'm feeling murderous. Or maybe I'll just go look on the Private Property website instead. Yes... that sounds like a plan, batman.
Showing posts with label estate agents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label estate agents. Show all posts
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Friday, 22 August 2008
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:
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:
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