You made your bed, pal, now lie in it.

A fourth installment in the series of amazing photo frames has materialized! (At the Jewel, of course!) This may be the darkest of them all, as it’s a wedding frame (and as a gal who’s been married since May ’08, lemme tell ya, there is some untapped potential for horror surrounding weddings and all the trappings.) It’s called “Our Wedding Day.” And etched into the side? “Good luck, Honey.” Whether it’s a gift from a spouse or a disapproving in-law, the sentiment is equally dark and foreboding. I love it!

Speaking of “good luck, honey,” we’ve begun to narrow down our list of potential homes in which to deposit all of savings. What, you say? This is a terrible time to put all of your metaphorical eggs in one basket? (Or literal, I imagine. Have you seen the rising cost of food? We’re one step away from government rationed powder packets and astronaut food. Yum.) Regardless of what’s happening on “Wall Street” or in the “banks,” we’ve decided to look at condos and small, delapidated homes for the fun of it. And oh, is it fun.

The other day we walked up to a home with our realtor and saw that the lights were out. “Hmm, someone should be here,” she said warily. “No matter!” said eager buyers Mr. and Mrs. Schoeny. We searched for a key. No key. I looked on the porch and could have sworn I saw movement in the curtained window. Then I saw a face. When I turned back to show the others, it was gone. Was this a Scooby Doo episode? Then suddenly another face appeared in the window that the others did see. Moments later the door opened. A grungy-looking guy held the door open and stared silently at us. “Hi, we’re supposed to see this home,” our realtor informed him. “Is now a bad time? We were told no one was here…”
“Nah,” he said, opening the door further. “Now’s okay. Uh, hold on.” As we walked into the “foyer,” we peered around into the living room where, (I swear to God) there was a queen size bed with no sheets or anything on it. What the bed DID sport was a rather large, rather elderly woman with a plate of fried chicken next to her. When we approached, the various people in the room (again, no joke) THREW A BLANKET OVER HER HEAD.
“Uh, you wanna see the kitchen?” In that moment, our minds were wiped blank and we nodded mutely. Since this is a family blog I will not go into further detail on what was featured on the walls and floors. But it was nasty. We did not stay for the full tour, sadly, especially since P.J.’s foot went through a stairstep and we were followed by a few people making fun of us in Spanish. Now THAT is how you sell a home, folks.
We all decided never to speak of it again (but we didn’t mention blogging!) and agreed that perhaps the asking price was a tad too high, especially since it would take twice that amount to raze and fumigate the property.
Happy Monday, Honey.



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