Pinky's Book Link

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Uprooting Your Life at Fifty Plus

Our house went up for auction last night. It was passed in. I sort of suspected that might happen. Before they began the auction the real estate company showed a PowerPoint presentation of the house with a John Laws type professional voiceover in the background and I teared up a bit seeing the old boiler up on the screen.

I felt nostalgic. My sentimentality dried up as quickly as a piece of uncovered camembert in the fridge though, when I realised the fudging open houses were going to have to continue. More fake flower arranging...

I could never be an auctioneer. I’d get too cranky when nobody was bidding. I’d crack a mental, push the lectern over and stomp out in a furious rage, screaming, “Why the hell did you all bother to come then you bloody time wasters! Go home and get back to your scrapbooking!”

I would be a terrible auctioneer really.

I’d be like Basil Fawlty.

Your bid is what????

It was bad enough being a vendor. I sat with my squinty eyes boring a hole in the back of the head of the guy sitting in front of me, willing him to make a bid. It was all I could do to stop myself jabbing him in the back with my pointy finger and hissing, “Go on you fool. Bid! What are you waiting for you giant sod?”

Everyone is telling us what a bad market it is at the moment and I’m starting to believe them.

Scotto leaves for the Gold Coast to start his new job next Thursday and the earliest I’ll see him after that is in early December. That’s if the house sells. The other possibility is I’ll be stuck here trying to sell the house into the new year. Bollocks!

If I didn’t own so many dogs I could go down and we could rent somewhere and rent this house in the interim, you do realise that don’t you. But no landlord with any brains will rent to us with our menagerie; pestilence and disease ridden critters that they are.

Of course I could send them all to live on a farm somewhere...

Sunning themselves....

Only kidding. 

How could I part with these annoying little shits? I couldn’t. 

It would be like giving my children away. Weird when you think I’m actually giving my real children away. But those children are all adults now and I’m sure they’ll infiltrate my new abode in the big smoke at their earliest convenience.

Besides, my real children don’t get so excited to see me when I arrive home that they wee all over me when I walk in the door.

That’s true love.

Still, I am glad Scotto doesn’t do that.

P.S. My ear is still clogged up with wax, I'm still deaf and now I’m trying the ear drops.

Have you ever been to an auction? Did you bid? Would you bother going if you weren't going to bid?