Thursday, January 13, 2011

Crappy

It’s official. The house goes on the auction block April 15.

Last night, just minutes after getting home, the screen door pushed against the frame like someone was here and the dog went crazy, looked out the big picture window then ran to the front door barking her menacing bark the entire time. I had a feeling who it might be and debated only one thing… whether to open the door and let Lucy greet the guy putting the notice up that the house will be sold at auction. I’m regretting the fact that I restrained her until he was safely back in his car.

This got me thinking that during these hard economic times, even though the job of foreclosure notice deliverer is not a satisfying position, unless, of course, you get off on other people’s misfortune, it is, nonetheless, a job. Crappy, yes, but work all the same. Alas, I’m glad I’m not him. Especially if I had decided to go ahead and open the door while he was taking pictures to prove that he indeed attached the notice to the house and “accidentally” let the dog out!

2 comments:

  1. I hope you have somewhere to go. I have gotten hooked on your blog, and feel as if I am your nosey neighbor. I will follow your blog as long as I can, and hope you find nice "digs" to move into.

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  2. Don't worry! I plan on blogging even if we end up moving into an apartment. May not be much in the way of chickens or gardening or home renovations (which will all suck) but perhaps that means more on crafts, quilting and recipes. And I'm sure animal adjustments to apartment living will make for some interesting posts too.

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