OMGOMGOMGOMG.
It’s so ugly. We’ve been looking – for months – for an apartment to renovate. We finally saw the potential ugly baby today, the ugly house with no listing photos. It’s so ugly. So ugly I laughed when I saw the bathroom. Actual LOLZ. So frightfully hideous I couldn’t stop smiling. A group of well-heeled Chinese arrived, took one look, and fled. This is it.
This is the one.
It’s a history museum dedicated to the full glory of the 1970s. When ABBA members die, they’ll want to end up here.
It’s mirrored, it’s shiny, it’s perfect.
It checks our requirements, it’s well within our budget as Vancouver first-time home buyers, it’s nothing but potential. You could stand there for an hour and improve it without meaning to.
I went through the apartment – the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen – four times over, settling in my head what needed renovating and how fantastic it’d be once finished. Paolo & I only had to look at each other, then try our best to stop smiling. It already felt ours and I was in pig heaven.
The problem?
All the other people at the ugly apartment’s open house. A dozen or more of them. Trying to ruin my life.
Go away! You’re not invited! This ugly baby is taken.
I thought about just locking the front door. A bold move of ownership: maybe they’d give up and leave?
“When are you taking offers?”
We were ready to pounce.
“After our second open, tomorrow.”
….There’s another open house?! With more evil competition? More ugly baby thieves? I turn now, hysterically, to the sage words of Dr. Elliot Reed.
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Full photo credit to *Vintage Fairytale* via Flickr Creative Commons. ABBA photo found here.
