Your House in the Middle of Your Street

We dropped the kids off at Polish school Saturday morning and headed into Queens to meet our real-estate agent and view a few prospective homes.   When we arrived at the first house, there was already a mob of prospective buyers outside.  Our agent was there, as well as four to five other agents.

The listing agent, a man in his 50s with a mustache, comes out and talks to us like we’re five year olds. “I need everyone to line up and give my assistant your name. Then, I’ll take each party in separately. Let’s hurry up people. I have to be somewhere else soon”.  I should have bitch slapped him. Doesn’t he know I’m a famous blogger wannabe in my imagination?
The house was a dump and it looked like someone took a dump in the backyard; on too the second house.
The next house was a two flat and I don’t mean a pair of twin’s with no boobs lived there. A two flat is a single house for-sale with two rentable units. We were considering this as an option; i.e. live on the first floor and rent out the second.
We meet another obtuse listing agent who’s already annoyed that we’re about two minutes late.
She opens the door and tells us to look around. I step into the living room and head towards the French doors that separate the sunroom from the rest of the house.
I take one step into the sunroom, panic, pee a little in my pants and walk out. There was a bed in the sunroom with a single naked leg sticking out from under a pile of blankets. I look at the agent and before I can say anything, she’s like “There’s someone sleeping in there but please look around”.
We figured it would be better to see the upstairs. We get to the landing and she tells us there are three bedrooms and one bathroom. I go into the bedroom at the top of the steps, start looking around and holy CRAP rockets, there was a person sleeping in the bed!!  
I walked out of the room a little irritated, “WHY ARE THERE PEOPLE SLEEPING IN THE ROOMS??!” The agent’s answer: “There is a less refined type of people renting in this area. Don’t worry about it. Look around them.”
If we really wanted this house I would have pulled those sheets off and been all, “It’s 11 fucking A M bitches. Time to meet the landlord!!!!! Also, you are evicted. Now I am not your landlord. Don't you feel better?"


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