Real estate is so sexy

Now there's nothing that turns me on more than an attached laundry room and a view of the bay, not to mention all those hot termite guys, surveyors, appraisers and home inspectors with those sexy tool belts that you get to work with when you buy a home. But the fella that wrote this needs therapy.

Come on, don't be coy, you know you want it. You want it bad. You
clipped the ad out of the back of the newspaper with shaking, sweaty
hands. It went something like this: "Close-in location, 4 br, 3 full ba
plus 1/2, fam rm w/cath clng, hdwd flrs thruout, nu kitchen w/Sub-Zero
and Vkng, granite tops, full bsmt f/ home thtr, deck, 1/2 acre lot,
good schools, curb appeal, must see to believe!"

But even without seeing, you believed, you fool. And later you believed
with all your heart and soul as you drove past the house five times while
leaving a half-dozen voice mails for the seller's agent. You believed even
when she told you the price -- a king's ransom. You believed at the
Sunday open house, which was such a crush of yearning humanity that
when you went to look inside one of the bathrooms you had to fight your
way back out. You believed when you wrote the contract for more than the
asking price, figuring it was the only way to be sure of getting the house.

I think it's getting hot in here! But it's nothing that a smooth hip roof, a thorough termite inspection, and clean air handler coils can't cure.