A pair of real estate agents came over to value my house yesterday. I’m not ready to sell, but I thought it was best to be prepared given my precarious situation.
It turns out they just sold a house down the road after three previous agents failed. It was in crappy condition and still went for a motza.
One of the agents was super enthusiastic about my decor and raved about how much she loved it. She may have been buttering me up, but it still felt good.
They also thought the master bedroom I’d created was awesome and gave two thumbs up to my plantation shutters. When I said a previous real estate agent had advised me against doing both those things they said: “Was it a man?”
Cause chicks apparently dig big bedrooms with plush carpet and plantation shutters. They’ve promised to get back to me with the valuation soon.
I had a more desultory conversation with the manager of the car repair centre – it made my heart sink when he started talking about the dollars involved in fixing the stupid Renault Captur. We’re taking way more than the value of the car would be if it was roadworthy and up for sale.
Blimey. I’m trying to decide my next, finely calibrated (unlike my kaput car engine) move.
Aside from that, the only other drama was being halfway to the coffee shop at 7.10am when I checked my messages and realised I was supposed to have the youngest at the dermatologist at 7.50am.
Cue massive, heart-racing panic. I dragged the dogs home, yelled at the youngest to get out of bed … and couldn’t find the bloody referral ANYWHERE.
We bolted to the dermatologist’s surgery while I thanked the gods that it was school holidays, otherwise I’d never have made it there in the traffic in time. The youngest had various things burnt, snipped and scraped off her skin with a scalpel … retch … while I averted my eyes.
The real estate agents came over at 12pm. The disabled job search agency called at 1pm to see how I was getting on. The bloke spoke to me for all of 30 seconds and had nothing helpful to add.
I spent the afternoon applying for a few jobs, writing a lot of stories for Drinks Digest, sending an invoice for a freelance job I did earlier in the week, and finally hanging my solar-powered IKEA Chinese/Hawaiian lanterns from the deck rafters. I cooked dinner – chicken noodle stir-fry – while dancing around the kitchen to Pete Murray songs. That was the highlight of the day – a few moments of carefree joy.
I am a bit la-la-la about the car situation – coupled with the work situation – because it is so terrifying. If I thought about it too much I wouldn’t get out of bed and I’m a get-out-of-bed kinda gal. Glass half full and all that.
I’m just hoping for some sort of manageable outcome. Keep your fingers and toes crossed for me.
Song of the day: Pete Murray “Better days”