Erik-the-Moving-Company guy came by yesterday morning and walked through our house. As he looked around, he wrote down every single thing he was going to move — down to the cans in the pantry. (He doesn’t know this, but I will probably move the items in the pantry myself so he doesn’t see that my grandkids eat sugar cubes right out of the box. #Truth. They skip the middle man and just eat the sugar neat.)
At the end of the walk-through, Erik commented on our house and how pretty it was. He was surprised to learn that it was only 2,800 square feet. Or 2,900 square feet. We’ve never been quite sure. Do you count the basement?
Anyhoo, he was quite taken with our house.
“Would you like to buy it?” I asked him. “It’s for sale.”
He apparently thought I was being serious, because he quickly explained that he was single and he didn’t need a house with four bedrooms. He went on to tell us that he walked through a house last week that was 6,000 square feet, and occupied by a single man around the age of 35. “I think he had family money,” he opined.
The house has 27 bathrooms. That means he can use a different bathroom almost every day of the month. He juuuuust misses the mark in February.
As it turns out, the man is agoraphobic. In fact, he is more than that. He had a fish tank that seemed perfectly fish tanky. But when he would walk by the tank, he could “sense” that there was mold behind it. He got it checked out, and he was correct. He apparently has very strong senses. Because I went out and got my M.D. last night, I think that’s why he is agoraphobic. He is over-sensitive. You’re welcome.
I’m rambling, when all I really want to say is why would a single person in his or her mid-30s need a house that has 27 bathrooms? In fact, why would he or she need 6,000 square feet to wander around in all by oneself? I’m pretty sure that even if I had “family money,” I wouldn’t need 6,000 square feet. Heck, I have a hard enough time finding Bill in our house that is half that size.
I’m going to be perfectly happy in my 1,200 square foot abode.
By the way, Erik (who seems to know a lot of gossip for a mover) told us that he was moving a single woman into an apartment in our building this week. Here’s the gossip: She has — and is bringing with her — a ping pong table. She plans on having sliders under her furniture so that when the urge for a ping pong game hits her, she can simply slide the furniture out of the way and unfold her ping pong table.
Apparently the moving consultant tried to talk her out of the ping pong table. She explained to her that there is a ping pong table at Wind Crest. No go. When this woman wants a game, she doesn’t want to have to wait in line!
She is going to be my new best friend. Not because I like ping pong. But I like eccentric people.
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