Nom de Plume

The house front, that is.

The listing agent is a drunk. At least that’s what Serena and the bank say. Apparently, when Steve asked them to pay closing costs, he called the bank and started asking all sorts of illegal questions. Slurrily.

The owners don’t want to fix anything … or at least, they don’t want to pay to fix anything. They want to fix it themselves. Considering how they spackled the skylights, this is probably not a great idea.

So, this is the dealbreaker. But I suppose it’s a valuable exercise, because I’m discovering that I really would like to live there. I’ve been iffy.

So there it is.

Didn’t go surfing this weekend because Steve had to work, and then deal with house stuff the next day. Went to the International District, just happened on a festival, and then wandered around the Japanest supermarket. We left clutching bottles of unfiltered saki.