So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Preparing for the long weekend ahead and the mandatory Memorial Day barbecue: The unofficial start of summer for grill gluttons and beer guzzling alcoholics everywhere. (Start with Monday's post if you can.) The perfect place to celebrate Memorial Day weekend for me would be at a monastery where the monks take a vow of silence: The ideal barbecue: Plenty of food and no talking.
And even if there was talking, nobody would be talking about their kids, and there'd be none running around (perhaps there'd be some running around at an apartment complex a half-mile down the road with a connecting underground tunnel to the monastery, but nobody would likely bring that up at the cook-out.)
But since most of us don't have many monks attending our block parties, we have to work with what we got.
Sometimes as infertiles, you hold your breath as a big wingding approaches. "Will people ask us personal questions? Will we have to explain why we have no kids yet?"
No need to worry this time. For this weekend's barbecue, don't be concerned about the baby-making details. And don't bother buying a cattle car full of beef, pork, or chicken either. Look around the neighborhood. Plenty to grill right here.
"Hey, look, it's Joan from down the block! Hi Joan. Glad you could make it.... So, Joan, I've been meaning to ask...:
How much are you selling your house for? Is it really $440,000 like it's listed online? I mean, I'm sure all the other neighbors looked it up also.
I mean you can't really expect everyone to drive by that sign every day for six years and not go onto the realtor's website and search your address. I mean, it's not like we don't know the address.
So are you really asking $440,000 or is that some sort of a bargaining sales ploy? I mean you're not really expecting to get that are you? And it's been the same price for six years. I mean I know the housing market's in the toilet...But six years? And $440,000? It's kind of a pipedream...you know...maybe even a hallucination.
I mean, it's not that we're all nosy, Joan, it's just that we're all curious to know what houses in this neighborhood would be going for.
I mean, most of us are comparing your house to our own, and figure if you could get $440,000 for your termite-infested one-floor cramped mess, which by the way did you realize it's listed as three thousand square feet?
I mean, even if you count the garage, the deck , the hammock out back, and the mailbox, it couldn't possibly be three thousand square feet.
So do you really want to sell or are you just listing it to further piss off your ex-husband who built the house with his own two hands and lost it in the settlement when he ran off with that hula instructor?
Like I said, I know it's not really my place, but I just figured while we're standing around in this relaxed friendly atmosphere on this holiday weekend just chatting... and grilling...
Listen, I gotta go. The long weekend's only a few days away and I've got to go buy some deck furniture.... and build a deck.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.