The other day I was returning from work and there was someone sort of parked in the middle of the street, in front of my house. I pulled into the driveway and started to head into my kitchen. I heard someone behind me, on the driveway, calling, "Excuse me? Miss!" I don't know why, but I hightailed it inside. I wasn't in the mood for whatever they were selling. And it freaks me out when people I don't know come to the side door.
Then I remembered that car in the middle of the road and the driver that looked lost. I opened my front door and a woman came running. It turns out she was a realtor looking for comps for a client who was selling their house in the vicinity. She handed me her card, so she obviously wasn't a murderer.
"Is your house in decent shape on the inside?"
"Um, yeah? It was a foreclosure, so it had some problems."
"But it has wood floors?"
"Yes."
"Great. I'm selling a house for a client and I wanted to show him other houses that are nice inside but look crappy from the outside."
So glad to be of service! Me and my ugly house are going to put on sweatpants and eat some ice cream.
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