Mr. Scoop is a little punchy today.
I've dragged him, on foot, to condominium open houses all day. He had gotten very angry when his next door neighbor announced that she'd counted no fewer than 14 separate mice in her apartment in the last week. He got all Caddyshack at the idea and started buying traps and bombs to eliminate any unwanted rodents from the premises.
I, personally, wondered what kind of free time she had that she could number all these mice like stars. Her announcement had prompted Mr. Scoop to hit Home Depot and stuff every conceivable open hole and crack in his apartment with expandable, solidifying foam. Gi-normo caulk. I encouraged him to use the caulk on his neighbor's door so she couldn't actively leave her apartment and spread more upsetting statements about rodents and the like. He didn't foam her in like I suggested. I guess there's some kind of law or something about that. Clearly, I'm going to need to buy him more Jack Daniels.
We've spent today on foot looking at the most recent souless embodiments of hardwood floor and granite counter top in it's latest uber-iteration, with accompany-ing cathedral ceilings and recessed lighting in building unit after building unit. Some of the places were more interesting/remarkable than others - there was a place that had a weird oubliette room (very low ceiling) with an attached closet that seemed good for a "time-out" space...there was a bench..., for example - but we weren't interested in having the children necessary to fully take advantage of the oubliette. And the condo was across from an active, noisy, granite quarry.
Ultimately, we've decided on a place. It's a two bedroom condo with a lovely 2 car side by side parking garage that appears to have been abandoned by a couple who have given birth to too many children. It also looks like Pottery Barn has actively vomitted the contents of it wares upon this condo. The last owner was clearly a fan.
I mentioned this to the seller's agent last week. He works in a big office with other people. It appears he thought my comment was funny and mentioned it to his co-workers. They, oblivious to the source, regurgitated the joke to me at another open house. Ironically, they were trying to pump Mr. Scoop (who'd mentioned he'd been a stand-up comedian)for jokes at the time. "Say something funny!", they kept pushing Mr. Scoop. "Here's something funny, " I said, "You hacked my damn sad joke. Now you can pay us closing costs in full at the time we decide to purchase one of your properties. I think a stolen joke is worth closing costs."
I thought I might mention that my credit scores were actually better than my SAT scores, but I was worried that they might steal that small joke too.
It's true, though. My credit scores outstrip my SAT scores by over 200 points.
I just don't test well. Except in bizarre , economically motivated areas of life.
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