Clareified

Jerry: Hey George, he wants to be an architect! Just like you pretend to be.

It all started off so innocently. I swear.
Pi emailed me to ask if I could make an appointment for her and her fiance to see this house near my apartment. They just closed on their own house about seven blocks away, so I guess the request was sorta strange…but what the hell…right? I clicked the link on the ad she forwarded and called the broker. The guy that answered said I had to talk to the real estate agent directly and he gave me her phone number.
I rang her up (Yes, we’ve watched too much damn Coupling (UK) and this phrase is now in my vernacular.)
“Hello, my name is Dawn, I’m interested in viewing the property on Albermarle this Sunday.”
She paused.
“Okay…um…great. I have to check with the seller because they still live there, but that should be fine. Have you been prequalified?”
“No, not yet.”
I am now scanning the ad and come across the listed price 2.6 million dollars.
HAHAHHAHHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAH
She presses on.
“Well, this is a real gem. There nothing like it out there…how many people in your family?”
“Oh, it’s just me.”
“Um…this house has fifteen bedrooms…it might be a little large for your needs…”
“Uh…no…um…I live in a two bedroom co-op now, but am thinking of starting a practice out of my home…I need the space.”
Groan.
I kill Piro, kill her dead.
I finish the conversation, and the broker agrees to show me the place on Sunday morning.
I hang up.
Less than a minute later, my cell rings.
It’s the real estate agent.
I say “hello?”
“Hi, Janie, it’s Pam. I just got a call from this chick living in a two bedroom that wants to see the house on Sunday…”
“Uh, Pam…this is the chick.”
Silence.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Sorry, I thought you were the seller…sorry.”
I say okay and hang up.
Ten minutes later she calls to apologize again and to tell me that the Sunday time works for the seller.
Pi and Daffy pick me up bright and frickin early Sunday morning.
Pi eyes my outfit quizzically.
I am wearing a light blue Las Vegas shirt, with my embroderied jeans and a Yale ‘97 baseball cap.
I look kinda like this.

Except for the Spongebob.
“Ok, so this was my thinking,” I say having fully prepared for this very reaction, “Poor people always dress up to seem rich, so I figured if I dress way down, she’ll totally think I’m so rich that I don’t care what she thinks! It’s GENIUS!!!”
Pi remained skeptical.
We stopped at Dunkin Donuts for breakfast before driving over to the house.
The place was amazing. It was a corner house in this cul de sac secret street that has a protective charm to hide it from black people. We however thrwarted the magic by having the Chinese guy drive us through.
We sat on the steps waiting for real estate agent Pam, when the door suddenly opened and a dog came bounding outside.
I did not scream.
Much.
“Good morning, I’m Pam,” she stood at the doorway in a beige skirt suit, with pumps to match and a string of pearls around her neck.
Damn. Maybe I should have at least gone with shoes, instead of sneakers…oh well…
“Are you guys eating breakfast?” She asked.
As we were all mid way through various lattes and bagels, I thought her question was an odd one.
“Yeah, but we’re ready,” I said. “I’m Dawn.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but we can’t walk through the house with coffee and food.”
“Oh.”
Pi and I gobbled down our foodstuffs, but Daffy was not to be rushed, boys.
So we resumed our seat on the steps and waited for him to finish.
Pam took this opportunity to resume her inquisition.
You really never do see it coming.
“So, have you gotten pre-qualified since we spoke? Most people wouldn’t even show a property like this if you arent pre qualified.”
“No…I’m really at the beginning of my search…”
(And here is where Pi decides to “help.”)
“Yeah, she’s been looking a four bedroom condos in Manhattan for 1.8 million and I said to her “Dawn, for half a million more you could get a mansion in Brooklyn for you and your mother.”)
I laugh nervously.
“Yeah, it’s like, now that I’ve made partner, I just make so much money, I don’t know what to do with it all. I mean how many times can you go to Vail for the weekend. Honestly.”
Pam was unimpressed.
She gave me a sheet listing the specs of the house and her card.
“Well, here’s my information. What do you plan to do with your current apartment.”
“She’s going to rent it out,” Pi said, just as I said “Sell it.”
“I haven’t decided.”
Daffy finished his food and we went inside.
The house was actually incredible…Tiffany glass windows, French doors, original wood floors…some dining room that Franklin Roosevelt ate at that was in Architectural Digest or something.
The house used to be owned by a doctor, so the downstairs had five rooms that you could tell used to be old patient exam rooms.
She wanted to take us outside to see the garden, but the sellers had recently adopted some abused dog and it was chained up outside, barking its head off and baring its teeth quite violently. (Its mood was further aggravated by the other dog which decided to use its unfettered freedom to go taunt the chained up dog.)
As we walked through the house, the free dog would follow us around, trying to kill me while no one was looking. I would get their attention immediately.
“You know, in a place this big, you probabaly are going to want dogs around,” Pam said, grabbing Kujo’s collar.
“Yeah…on it.”
Pi and Pam seemed to hit it off, and with our incessant hints about my limitless net worth, Pam had warmed up to us by the time we reached upstairs.
“There are seven bedrooms off this hall…the sellers use this one for the live-in maid, but you can get exchange students from abroad and have them clean up in exchange for room and board.”
WHAT? Is there an exchange student comissioner to report this woman to? I’m fairly sure that’s not the purpose of the exchange programs…
“And here are the children’s rooms. You seem like a lovely girl, eventually you’ll get married and this is a great house for a family.”
We finished the tour, two more floors and four hundred more bedrooms later, we were back downstairs walking through the kitchen, when I noticed a couch, with a pair men’s feet sticking out from under a blanket in one of the adjoining living rooms.
I thought it was Daffy hiding.
No idea why, but when I saw him follow behind Pam, I freaked.
“What’s that?!”

Don’t say you don’t see anything Don’t say you don’t see anything Don’t say you don’t see anything Don’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anythingDon’t say you don’t see anything

I am so not going back to Belle Reeve over this!
“Oh, that’s the seller’s 22 year old son, they couldn’t wake him up this morning, so I covered him up.”
Whew.
Finally, she took us to the back to show us the garage.
Piro, quite enjoying this now, said “Dawn, you can get the Mercedes SL now, you don’t have to be afraid of parking it on the street.”
I too, have evidently lost my mind because I say “Yes, and I can get my mom the Jeep for my mom…though probably not for a few months after I close.”
I now start talking about how I’m going have a huge Fourth of July barbecue and host college reunions for our society friends.
At the end of the tour, Pam mentions that she has had a screenwriter and his family come back twice to see the place and they look close to putting in a bid.
I am furious!
Who the hell does this screenwriter think he is, taking my house! I’ll offer you full price right now! Where’s my checkbook?
Thankfully, Kujo came running in at just the right moment to frighten me back to reality.
I shook Pam’s hand and we left.
We rode in silence for a bit and I finally said “wow, being partner at a law firm is pretty damn nice.”

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Wednesday, October 3rd, 2007 at 10:54 am and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.