Our agent called tonight to say we had to postpone the scheduled home inspection Monday because the listing agent couldn't be there, and she "had" to be there. I checked with my mother who's a real estate agent, and she says that's very unorthodox, and that listing agents are actually encouraged to stay away during the inspection for liability reasons. Julio said the same thing. Yo! Adrienne went even further to say "You need to demand she NOT be there. She has no business impeding your time to listen to the inspector tell you what could potentially be bargaining information useful in bringing down the price." The temptation is to start wondering if we're being fucked with somehow, but I'm going to let those worries slide for now and call our agent in the morning to see what's going on. Were I to unleash the conspiratorially enthusiastic gnome who lives in my brain, I could concoct a billion scenarios explaining these shenanigans. Better to sleep instead.
In the meantime, we've got boxes and have started tidying up around here a bit. I'm going to do some painting this week.
Coldwell Banker seems to think it's ok to give phone numbers of its customers to all sorts of heinous corporate off-shoots who bombard us with telemarketing calls: title companies, insurance companies, finance companies. NOT cricket. Hey CB--chill that shit out because we are on the NO CALL list.
Wine tasting in Southern PA with the Traveling Joneses today. E. saw the lanyards yuppies use to carry their wineglasses around their necks, and demonstrated his disdain by proving he had his own wineglass carrier: