we had our first craigslist crazy. thankfully, not in the "craigslist killer" vein, more in the "aging artsy OCAD escapee rabid michael snow fan" vector of the socially maladjusted spectrum.
this woman had been ADAMANT that the dresser i was selling was to be hers. lots of phone calls! email contact! so i made arrangements for her to come and see the piece - then the stipulations start coming in. no, she doesn't have a cell phone. make sure my husband will be home as she has a bad back and can't lift anything.
the prearranged time arrives and she appears. she is a vision of aging wackadoo artist stereotypes. two toned hair that goes from white roots to faded patricia field magenta. kooky eyeglasses in the oversized, edith head-homage style favored by elderly eccentrics the world over. her stooped body was draped in batik with dr. scholl's shod trotters. oy.
she comes into our house and starts poring over the dresser. the dresser is wood, with a particle board top. it's a beast - almost 9 feet long and 18" deep. i'm selling it for $150. she fawns over our cats (kooky old lady cliché, check!) and then proceeds to go over the dresser with a rigor that would make sotheby's proud - seriously, all she was missing was a jeweler's loupe. she says there is sun damage, that there are deep, field furrow gouges (admittedly, there are minor surface scratches) and then she proceeds to tell me that she has to call her friend, to check in as the dresser is for him, not her. she asks to use the phone. the dotytron hands over his blackberry. ohhh, you have one of those she says, lifting the spectacles away from her eyes and peering myopically at this strange device from the 21st century. the numbers are so small! she decries and then asks for a pen to help her dial. at this point, the dotytron interjects, "i can dial the number for you, if you want." "oh no no, if you would just give me a pen, i can use that to dial" the dotytron: "but. i. don't. want. you. using. a. pen. on. my. phone." lol!
then she proceeds to have a FIFTEEN minute conversation with her friend, in plain view of us, talking smack about the dresser while the dotytron and i give each other exaggerated eye rolls and mouth "GET. OUT. OF. OUR. HOUSE." to each other. her part of the conversation goes something like this, "yes, i've seen the dreser. well, it needs A LOT of work. the whole top needs to be refinished. i'm guessing you're looking at $200 work to put into it. i mean, if it was for me, i'd be fine with it, but i don't know that you want to put that much money in. well, it's walnut. there are deep gouges. yes, well, they simply don't know enough to know, you know what i mean?" etc. etc. LADY, PLEASE! that line put eye-rolling into maximum overdrive - seriously, we almost hit g-force. do you REALLY think we would be selling a solid wood, giant, walnut dresser from the 60s for ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS?!????? i couldn't believe the conversation went on for that long. when she finally hung up, i couldn't resist the urge to bait her: "is your friend a collector?" i asked, innocently. "he's actually a DEALER" she responded and then started to make predatory moves towards my rosewood buffet.
i gave her the boot. seriously - what kind of self-respecting fine furniture dealer sends THAT LADY as their proxy? and what kind of furniture dealer DOESN'T HAVE A CAR?!??
on a totally different tack - in times when you and your partner, in all your over-worked, under-slept, drywall dust-lunged and deeply indebted glory, are having mini world war III type arguments (with f-bomb ammunition) (precipitated in no small part by the confluence of all of the above factors), it pays to remember things like -
i'm glad i'm partnered up with a total, emotionally available mushball. to wit: us, driving in captain save a ho' to markham, early saturday morning. on the cd player: les miserables (of course). the dotytron: sunglasses on. the song: "javert's suicide". the dotytron has always loved that the closing of "javert's suicide" invokes the refrain from "stars" (javert's theme) in a towering crescendo of strings. the song never gets played without some kind of remark or other. as the strings swell, i get goosebumps, and turn to the dotytron whose skin is strangely flushed: "are you crying?" "i don't want to talk about it." lol! we honestly can't listen to the cd without one or the other of us demanding: "WHY. WON'T. THEY. REVIVE. THIS. ALREADY." lol!
the other cute thing is watching him grow in his profession. check out his kindergarten microphone:
doesn't it kind of make your heart explode with cuteness? what's EVEN CUTER is when you see our cat smudge (already a zenith of feline cute) walking around with the kindergarten microphone in his mouth - he carries it by the orange foam ball part. gah!
we were cleaning lil' ugmo ALL DAY on sunday. when a chest freezer we were moving out to the curb knocked me on the head, i unleashed a string of swears the likes of which has probably unendeared me to the family friendly neighbourhood for aeons. it was trying - we had several mini-fights borne of that volatile cocktail of stress, frustration, and an available target who's kind of stuck with you. sunday night we met up with dr. rei and hanbo and it was so gratifying to hear about their mini apocalyptica moments whilst planning their nuptials. it adds a veneer of normalcy to the proceedings. it also helped asking our neighbour, the one we share the wall with, "so...ummm...does EVERYONE put their home improvements on their line of credit?" and to be met with the affirmative. our direct neighbours are THE BEST. we kind of love them. we're so glad that out of all the people we've met on the street, we share a wall with them.
the dotytron has been talking up my pumpkin carving skills to them already. gah! i was hoping to have a "soft open" on the halloween front but i guess that's not an option. i already know 2 of my possibly 3 pumpkins. the dotytron is trying to get me to compromise my artistic integrity and sell out by changing one of my more obscure references to something a little more friendly for the gen-pop. i say NAY! this comes around but once a year! apparently they get around 80 kids. crikey! we kind of want to establish ourselves as THE house on the street so we've been kicking around ideas. i want to be "can of pop" house. the dotytron things we should cement things by being "can of pop" house AND "help yourself from the bowl of candy" house. i was like, well then, we might as well go all out and be "can of pop", "help yourself from the bowl of candy" "p.s. did i mention that the bowl of candy will be full of REGULAR sized chocolate bars" house. lol!!! we'd be mobbed in 2010. mobbed!
or we could make kids do the truffle shuffle before getting any loot:
we're also kicking around the idea of doing fake front lawn graveyard. i'd do it if the gravestones were like, "RIP J DILLA" "RIP GOOD TASTE" but the dotytron thinks that's all too political - that we should go the pun-y route. do we all know how i feel about puns? I HATE THEM. front lawn graveyard is TBD at this point. on the costume tip, i've got 4 potentially good costumes - 1 of which would be pretty hilarious but wouldn't have a matching dotytron costume counterpart. decisions!
tonight for dinner i made us a tofu, long bean, and chili black bean sauce stirfry on chow mein noodles. i'm trying really hard to establish the supremacy of the dotytron's lunches in the staffroom. these are the kinds of petty rivalries that will sustain me through the long, poor winter nights to come.