Monthly Archives: February 2017

A Mother’s Choice

Last week, my parents were scheduled to return Stateside after spending another month in Asia. Two days before their flight, my father called to let me know that mom had decided to stay behind with my brother. You always hear those stories about how children come between couples… my family certainly has a long history where we were split along personality/philosophical lines. My father and I, despite our rifts, are for the most part, more similar. Likewise, my mother jives better with my brother. In her case, I think a lot rides on him being the first born… but whatever, she thinks there’s some special connection. At first, on hearing the news, I was annoyed and frustrated. I mean, the whole time they’d been overseas, I was eager to have them back in the States so mom could get the mental care she needs. She was supposed to go in for another MRI to assess the rate of progression of her condition. Already, she had stopped taking her western meds in favor of that deer placenta shit my brother is selling… I was fine with a month-long delay on treatment, but that was bc I fully expected her to get on a program come March.

Well, that’s not going to happen. A lot of friends have expressed skepticism about the deer placenta stuff. Yeah, you and me both. That said, I do know people who swear by what I would consider to be similar supplement-type products: Herbalife, Juiceroo, JuicePlus, etc. I personally know people who have taken such things and seen improvement in their physical ailments… So maybe some stuff is legit; still, I want measurements/tests to gauge any changes.

Speaking with mom on the phone, she sounded in good spirits. My father and relatives say she does appear more interactive and happier in Taiwan. J takes her to all sorts of his religious group activities… Remember how I had done all this internet research on meditation and yoga exercises to slow dementia? She used like NONE of it. But J will take her to some group exercise class (run by his cult people) and she’ll go. And then they’ll attend meditation activities together. I mean, on one hand, I get it. Stuff in person is always better than stuff online. And activities are always more compelling with a buddy. Fine. But now, she’s decided to stay back. My father says he’ll fly back to Taiwan to accompany her back in April. Um ok, but meanwhile, we lose another month of mental exams and treatment. I urged dad to have her visit the doctor in Taiwan. He says no one is available to take her. Granted, doctor appointments in Taiwan take ALL FUCKING DAY, as I detailed when I took my grandfather in two years ago. But partly, it takes all damn day only bc my family refuses to get the queue number, go home, and come back, for fear of missing their place in line. Regardless, I told dad to tell Johnny to take her.

Dad: Oh, he’s busy and has work.
Me: Um, it’s ONE fucking day.
Dad: Yeah, but it takes so long.
Me: Um, it’s ONE day. If he has the time to take her to all these religious activities, he has the time to take her to the damn doctor.
Dad: Yeah, but I don’t have confidence in him.
Me: Yeah well, that’s a different issue. You still need to make the ask.

I wonder how her choice impacts the marriage. Then again, my dad has always blamed us kids for all their fighting. Not my problem they have a very antagonistic and finger-pointing way of handling conflict. Not my problem they also have very different stances on parenting. They should have worked that shit out beforehand.

I feel bad for my dad. I mean, basically mom is pulling a Johnny: she just decides not to go home and then someone else is left to handle all the logistics. I mean, nevermind that taxes are due and she’ll need to sign paperwork. Nevermind that they’re supposed to be downsizing and figuring out where to live and what to do with all their shit. Whatever, it’s all just details for other people to figure out. Maybe I’m being overly judgey here, but shit, sure feels selfish and inconsiderate to me!

On the flip side, she’s never had a great relationship with Johnny. Maybe she’s wanting to maximize her time with her son. Ok, that’s fine but understand that your son doesn’t care about anyone but himself and his Buddha “master.” Why would I say such a thing? Bc the last time mom stayed behind for a month, Johnny was hardly ever home. He just went to work and then went to his cult activities. If she didn’t want to go, he just left her at home all day. She did the groceries and laundry and cooking and cleaning. Dad says mom wants to stay behind this time, bc she wants to “help Johnny change.” She wants to help him get his shit in order so he can get married and have a family. Jesus Christ. Here’s the thing. There is a difference between hope and delusion. I have said this a billion times. Women are not stupid. No smart, competent woman in her right mind is going to voluntarily take on a “project,” when the work involves taking care of a 40+ y/o man-child. For real. WTF does he have to offer in a relationship? A prestigious education? A well-to-do family (that’s totally dysfunctional)? An obsession with a religious cult? A backwards relationship where he is a child who gives and offers NOTHING to his parents? Puhleeze. I’m all worked up again thinking about all the things that are wrong with this arrangement…

And yet when I spoke with my mother on the phone, I bit my tongue. I tried to have a normal conversation with her. Nevermind that she didn’t listen to anything I said, and she didn’t even hear any of my questions. I wasn’t even trying to broach anything super serious: I just tried to chit chat, and even then, she couldn’t listen and let me say a damn thing edgewise. It’s so goddamn frustrating. But if I have learned anything from John and his family, it is that I need to control my temper. I need to take things less personally. I need to be patient. And so here we are. I was tasked with contacting the airlines last minute to change her travel plans, and I will be called again later on to handle more of the downsizing, moving, and future travel arrangements. So many shitty choices and decisions and I’ll be the one who has to honor them by getting shit done. Thanks, bro. I can always count on you to fuck things up some more.

Ramona Returns

The other day, Bubbey commented that I’m good at things that drain me. Ain’t that the truth! I mean,  project management for my parents, travel planning, relationship management, doggie care…

Sweet little Ramona went home on Friday afternoon. She was booked to stay with us for 18 days while her family traveled through Japan. In the end, the time together was still too short.

Sure, she has all kinds of problems: skin rashes, eye issues, ear infections, snoring problems, food sensitivities, trembling issues… but she is so damn cute!! Bubbey is right: indeed, I’m damn good at taking care of doggies. There’s just something so rewarding to me to be responsible for them, from tracking the meds, to monitoring the poop/pee, to grooming/feeding etc… Honestly, I feel like we did it for so long for Remy and Martin, and it always gave me such a strong sense of purpose. And there was so much good that came out of all my time and effort.

For example, Ramona was on new ear drop meds and when I took her to the vet, the doctor said her ears looked better than they’d been in many months. Sure, it was probably the new meds but heck, part of that was also the proper and consistent administration of the meds, you know? Man, I gotta say: that pup is one. tough. cookie. For reals. Those Lhasa Apso breeds have lots of health issues. Like the ear canal is L-shaped and super prone to infection. The vet cleaned and flushed her ears and then as part of the preventative maintenance, she and the techs plucked out all the hairs inside her ears. Basically, the doc put on a pair of rubber gloves and just started ripping out the fur inside Ramona’s ears. OMFG, it was like waxing but without the wax and without any numbing agent. Then, a tech supplemented by using scissor-grip tweezers to rip out hairs deeper in the canal, and she accidentally grabbed a nubby of Ramona’s inner ear! Poor baby flipped the fuck out. I was like, “Uh, you accidentally grabbed her ear!” Jesus people, be careful! It was a weird experience the whole thing… it reminded me of how much both people and animals hate going to the hospital. I mean, ultimately, all of the procedures and treatments are done for their own good and well-being, but fuck, there is a ton of pain involved! And Ramona was so incredibly tolerant given what was being done.

As much as I loved having Ramona, I didn’t get the best sleep. She would wake up in the middle of the night… I think she had a bit of that nighttime restlessness that I saw in Marty. In addition, between Bubbey and Kidney Bean, I had snorberts on BOTH sides of the bed. In all honesty, by the time her family came to get her, I was pretty damn exhausted. But that didn’t stop me from crying up a storm. 🙁

Her family was so kind and sweet. When they showed up at the door, they had a big bag chock full of gifts for us: all brought back from their time in Japan. From paper crafts to candies to tea and incense… it was just too much! I’m glad that they appreciated how I took the time during all the chaos to interview/hire/coordinate a substitute sitter. I was very moved by their gratitude. That said, the thing is, once you go through the experience of scrambling last minute seeking care for your senior, high-maintenance dog, you never forget the stress of it. And these transitions are also so difficult for the old doggies, you know? Anyway, I’m relieved that all the pieces fell into place, and now I have another in-home sitter to add to my arsenal. Always gathering my contacts, you know.

After Ramona went home, I was really sad, bc once again, the Houseboat felt empty. She’s also almost 14 y/o. Who knows when, if ever, I’ll see her again. But I suppose the most important thing to remember is that she’s in a wonderful, loving home. No matter what, she’s got a great family.[FAG id=7504]

Bombogenesis

Well, we’re getting hit with another week of freakish weather. I know, people elsewhere in the country might think we California softies are just crying wolf, but hell, even the weather pros are calling this a “bombogenesis.” Yes, that’s the term the weather peeps are using for this weather bomb of high winds and rain! You’d think they’d coin a better word… I mean is bombogenesis a disease or some bizarre Biblical reference? WTF. Regardless, this heavy, pouring rain is getting to be ridic.

The good news is that we haven’t (yet) suffered any downed trees or power outages on the Houseboat, though that’s not to say shit couldn’t happen. My next door neighbor had a monster eucalyptus tree crash in his yard last year, just barely hitting the house. He and the wife were so concerned about further crashes that for few days while they wanted for crews to chainsaw the remaining branches and stabilize the tree, they slept in the other bedroom. Yikes.

I’m a little concerned too that our wet roof is well, getting more and more drenched. I sure hope nothing comes through the ceiling inside. The ground cover in my front yard (which I had re-designed last year to be drought-tolerate) is filling in nicely, but the roots of our ash tree, which in the past clogged our plumbing, is coming back with a vengeance. Suddenly, home ownership is sounding rather burdensome, right?

In other news, Bubs got back last night… just before the soaking wet blew in. He’s pretty pooped and still kinda on East Coast time. But we booked our hotel for Los Cabos next week. Woohoo! Actually, I had scored an awesome deal on a smaller local resort, but in the end, we upgraded to the JW Marriott. There’s just something consistent about those MNCs (multinational corporations). The biggest tip I wanted to share though? Thank goodness for my Costco card… especially for travel bookings. For example, consider the Cabo Marriott booking:

Hotels.com/Priceline.com: $659/night
Marriott.com (AAA rate): $521
Costco Travel: $421.

Yeah, it’s higher than I would normally do, but what can I say, it’s been a shitty last month. But seriously, isn’t the price difference just insane? I’m telling you: no matter what, whether it’s shoes or home improvement or whatever, you gotta comparison shop your ass!!!

High Maintenance

I got a pretty darn slow start to the day today. Yesterday, after running around in the torrential rain and storms, going from appointment to meeting to training to meeting to whatever, I got chilled to the bone, and you know how I am with my lame constitution. So the sniffles came on and I started sneezing up a storm. Fucking A.

Then Ramona was at the groomers’ all day so by the time I got her home, she was beat, which meant that lil’ snausage snored up a goddamn storm in the bedroom last night (No, she is not sleeping in my bed.)

The good news is that I’ve finally eliminated the flea problem. Before I left for Maryland, I activated three separate flea bombs in the house AND I also released a tub full of nematodes into the backyard. J will probably say the flea bombs did the trick, but I happen to think the dual-pronged approach was the secret. Yeah I’d read online that the worms would eat the fleas and their babies. Whatever. However we arrived here, thank fucking goodness bc I do NOT need to be going around looking like a Leper.

And fortunately, my bug bites healed while I was away. I mean, my legs still look fucked up and scarred but at least the itching is gone and I haven’t scratched the wounds raw. Score one point for me!

In other body news, after I returned from Montana at the beginning of February, I used my Groupon for eyelash extensions. Apparently, this is the latest beauty rage, so I had to partake and see for myself. I just went for a partial instead of the full set, but holy crap, so damn uncomfortable! Basically, in order for her to have full access to my upper lashes (to which the extensions are glued), she had to tape down my lower lashes and that tape kept digging into my undereye area. In the end, the new lashes looked good, but shit man, bc they are fake and curl in one direction, sometimes they twist around on your normal lash and end up poking me in the eyeball. I will say, like the brow tats, it sure is nice to wake up and not spend time doing the eyeliner and mascara thing. It does look pretty natural too, just enhanced. We’re into mid Feb now and some of them are still on, but most have fallen off. As someone who wears contacts and has itchy eyes sometimes, it’s not a good fit. Fake adhesive lashes might be better. Or I’m still game for good ol’ mascara. But it was fun while it lasted.

What else. Nail polish. It looks so nice but Jesus, the chipping! We got our nails done three or four days before the funeral and after day 2, chipped. I’m almost thinking now that I’m no longer going to paint my nails bc the chipping looks so damn gauche. Today I was planning to treat myself to a pedi, but then I got into unabomber mode and decided not to leave the house. I just did them myself. The funny thing about doing my own nails… I get sloppy and shit goes all over the damn place outside of the nailbed. I don’t care. I do a scrappy job and then use a scrubber cloth after they dry to scrape away all the imperfections. That’s easier than making it perfect from the get go. A little Vix fix.

My hair is a royal mess. I was trying to grow back part of the shaved area, and those hairs are just sticking out like a grass patch. I also dyed my hair the other week using my eSalon dye… it’s something I found online and the quality of dye is definitely better in that it doesn’t bleed all over the place but after all that damn work, the color was practically the same as what I started with!! I know, I’m a fucking mess.

And then yesterday, I met with two lenders, one of whom was in a suit. We went to lunch and you know how I never use a straw bc it’s environmental extraneous? Well, twice I went to drink my iced tea, and the ice avalanched towards my mouth, causing the tea to spill all over my shirt. For fuck’s sake, am I being filmed for a bloopers show or what?! That happened TWICE before I had the wherewithal to realize I gotta use the damn straw. Ugh!!! Who can remember all these etiquette/grace school details?!?! Just let me go live in a cave.

Leading by Example

In general, I spend a lot of time thinking about how to live my life better. Professionally, I’m still working on reaching milestones and attaining success… In my personal life, I’m pretty happy with how I cultivate and manage relationships with friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. With family, um not. so. much. I definitely have room to grow.

Sure, if you compare me to my man-child brother, which my friends often do, I’m a superstar. But honestly, being back in Maryland this past week following the death of my FIL, I know I am so woefully ill-equipped to be a truly helpful and useful family member. Yes, I can get shit done, but the service withOUT a smile piece is severely lacking and practically a dealbreaker. I know, my family is very different from J’s family so maybe there’s no point in comparing: my family interacts with each other minimally and distantly; we don’t have traditions; we don’t share any religions or rituals; we don’t adopt any collective routines or schedules or cycles. What can I say: we are disconnected and fragmented.

Meanwhile, all these years, I kinda judged J’s parents for being such homebodies: they didn’t travel or explore or socialize with others. They just sat around, complained a lot, chatted, and watched tons of tv. In fact, when my FIL was in rehab last week, an activities coordinator came by to take a survey: what do you like to do? She rattled off all sorts of activities: cards, crafts, music, walking, games, etc. It was almost ridiculous that she even bothered doing the survey with my FIL, but in the end, he said plainly and unapologetically: “Family gatherings. That’s what I like.”

And it dawned on me a day later: FAMILY is their hobby, their past time. And as all his kids and grandkids descended during his final days for this last farewell, it became so abundantly clear: When you spend time– repeated, concentrated, deliberate time– with family, you really learn about one another’s personalities, habits, and preferences. Duh, right? Well, I hadn’t put two and two together until now. Seriously.

For example, when S was assembling the funeral program, she and her eldest sister knew exactly which siblings would speak and which would not. They didn’t even need to ask: they knew, they accepted, and it was NBD for her and the eldest daughter and her family to fill that portion of the program. The funeral service itself was beautifully done. The turnout was larger than expected and included a few pleasant surprises– note to self: what a powerful gesture it is to have your childhood friends show up for your father’s funeral. I talked with one of J’s brother’s friends from elementary school. That dude has never moved out of the ZIP CODE. OMFG, can you imagine???

The service was lovely. It included several readings from the Bible as well as eulogies from the two sons-in-laws, his youngest daughter S, and his eldest daughter E. I was so very moved by the poignant stories and memories. This is what unconditional love looks like.

Seeing how loving J and his siblings are to his parents, I realized that I really have very little understanding of love, compassion, and forgiveness. I used to get so pissed off when my mom would confuse me with my brother. When she said things to me that rubbed me the wrong way, I always remembered her words. When she nitpicked or made disapproving comments about my appearance or personality or behavior or choices, I remembered and I held on to those comments, almost as reasons to chastise and vilify her.

My MIL is definitely declining cognitively, but even before her recent decline, she often confused her kids and messed up the details. And like all parents, whether they acknowledge this or not, she certainly has her favorites. The crazy thing is, no one in J’s family seems to mind or feel resentful for those mistakes or preferences!?!? My entire adult life, I have never forgiven my parents for parenting my brother the way they do. I have never forgotten or forgiven my grandmother and mother for favoring my brother over me. Even as they have endured a lifetime of pain from him, I have only told them that they deserve the pain bc of their poor parenting choices. And even now, though I might still feel correct in that perspective (despite not ever being a parent myself!), I question whether that level of blame and resentment is necessary towards anyone you love. Aren’t we all flawed– albeit some more than others?

By contrast, J’s siblings hear snarky and hurtful comments, and they just let them go. The unsavory comments don’t alter how much they love their mother. They don’t alter how much they care for her and strive to do right by her. So many times in this past week, my MIL made comments that I didn’t like, that seemed short-sighted or inappropriate or testy. Her kids were never ever fazed. Not for a single second. They overlooked all of it. They reacted by rephrasing their statements or by simply turning the subject to something else. Not one iota of irritation ever crossed their lips. Sure, behind closed doors amongst themselves, they were sometimes frustrated, but NEVER towards their mother.

And even as I have this new epiphany, I still can’t find it in me to reconcile my relationship with my brother for my parents. I don’t know why. Is it a loyalty thing? I’m dedicated and faithful so long as you’re on my good side, but once you make a decision (even if those choices are your own to make) to which I disagree, I become intolerant and mean. After all, there must be consequences for your actions…

Obviously, Bubbey has been under tremendous stress, and at times over the past few days, he snapped at me or used a disparaging tone. A few times I let it go, but it took EFFORT for me to let it go. And still a few times, I countered and talked back. There is something inside me that is unyielding and confrontational. Is it bc I was bullied as a child, so it’s hard for me to back off as an adult? Recognizing this flaw in myself makes me worry for those I love. Oftentimes, these stressful moments that elicit harsh tones or snippy words aren’t even about me… How will I possibly rise to the challenging times that lie ahead?

Lessons on Love

My father-in-law passed away this morning. What a crazy and turbulent chain of events over the last two weeks. In January, he had started to fall and faint with increased frequency. Doctors diagnosed him with CMML, a kind of leukemia. The recommendation was to undergo a “mild” form of chemo and then emerge with two years of good quality of life. As the daughter of a doctor, I always entrust medical professionals with our care. J’s father had qualms about chemo given his advanced age (83 y/o) as well as his pre-existing Parkinson’s disease. I thought he was being resistant. The family discussed their concerns with the oncologist, who reassured them of the mildness and tolerance, so they proceeded. Unfortunately, from that point on, my FIL just never really recovered: there were blood transfusions, complications with his Parkinson’s, problems with his liver, this and that. After chemo, he moved to physical therapy and rehab and there the level of care was totally mismatched and inadequate. He developed a fever then pneumonia and the rehab people were like arguing with the fam about giving him Tylenol to control the fever! Understandably, his level of care was way beyond their realm, but still! After two days there, he was moved to hospice down the road from the family home. They gave him morphine and finally, he was comfortable and at peace. He passed away this morning.

The way I am, there is always someone who has to be accountable. I am upset that the primary care physician and the oncologist weren’t on the same page. I’m upset by the apparent disconnect and siloing of his medical records. WTF happened? Sure, on one hand, he was 83. He wasn’t exactly a healthy person: he ate crap, he didn’t exercise, he wasn’t active. Yes, all those things were true. But somewhere along the way over the past two weeks, there wasn’t adequate followup. The oncologist never visited him after chemo. Just yesterday, he even told the family the blood work looked good, and it was my sister-in-law who insisted that death was imminent. I also have so many feelings about my parent-in-laws. Why didn’t they live healthier? Why didn’t they have a better social support system?

And then I realized that none of this thinking and processing helps. He’s gone and however he chose to live his life was his call and his choice. These are the moments when I realize I am still someone who struggles with the basics of acceptance– acceptance for myself and of those I love. Isn’t feminism ultimately about honoring the choices women (and men) make for themselves?

Earlier yesterday, my father called me from Taiwan and he gave me a rundown of properties that are pending sale. In truth, they have been “pending” for at least two years now– commercial property and land transactions take for fucking ever. As a Realtor, I have heard this and know this. He wanted me to handle a different property that’s a residential lease. And another property, a residential rental, is up for lease renewal. He told me he was going to renew the lease, and I. went. ballistic. What have we been talking about, esp all last year with the eldercare of my grandparents and the now tenuous situation with my mom? Are you fucking downsizing or NOT? I was so livid. All he keeps saying is, don’t worry about my business. I will handle it. Well, you’re not going to handle it when your wife gets sick and you are too damn old. The decline happens fast. Jesus fucking Christ. Enough is enough.

After I got off the phone with him, I started doing my thing: why can’t my parents be fucking normal. Why are they retarded and difficult. Why is my brother a useless fucking moron? Argh!!!

Yesterday afternoon, when I spoke with Ellen and she told me the end was definitely near, she said she wished they hadn’t had so many arguments and discussions about cleaning out the family home and getting it prepped for the market. So much time and energy was spent arguing and trying to persuade the parents to let go of their stuff… in the end, the decline happens fast and the kids ultimately make the call anyway. What she said kinda stuck with me. Like her, I’m a planner. I want to know where my parents will live. Where they will obtain care. I want to know those details and plan as much ahead as possible. But maybe Ellen is right: the time together is finite; don’t fill it with frustration and contempt and blame.

John has always been an amazing son. He isn’t very vocal or sentimental, but his actions and his patience and clarity in prioritizing the relationship above all else is something to admire and appreciate. Even as his father declined and I asked all kinds of angry questions about why this happened and who failed us, he knew to focus attention and energy on moving forward, on getting his dad more comfortable. None of that other stuff mattered, bc it couldn’t be changed. This is how life is: shit happens and rather than finding the culprit or scapegoat to explain how something like this came to be, it happened. We are here now. Adapt and figure out the next critical step.

RIP, Dad E. You and your wife raised a big family and instilled in them so much of what is good and right in this world: character, integrity, responsibility, family, and love. Thank you for this enduring legacy.

Inaugural Open House

Now more than ever, I am feeling like there is just too much going on. On one hand, I am feeling invigorated… after all, I like to hustle. On the other hand, I am also feeling a lot of fear.

After returning to my bubble post-Montana, I hit the ground running. Lunch/dinner plans with former colleagues, evening networking meetups, trainings during the day, lender drop-ins, plus a whole lot of project management… Our master bath remodel is opening up a huge can of worms, involving meetings with general contractors, plumbers, roofers, and fireplace experts. Turns out, fixing the gas leak (which we discovered when we swapped out the water heater) will require new gas lines for the whole house which in turn will involve punctures through the roof, and actually, we’re kinda needing a new roof. Then the roofer guy also noticed dry rot and damaged wooden beams… so it’s all adding up. The biggest downside is that the new roof is the limiting factor and the roofers probably won’t get us scheduled until late March/April due to all the rain we’re getting this winter. Ah well, it’ll get done.

Meanwhile, I hit up some more banks and credit unions last week. Two duds and one meeting with a branch manager who wants to set up a subsequent meeting with her two loan officers. That meeting will be this Friday. Then, my colleague invited me to shadow an open house he was hosting on Saturday. I was super stoked but then on Friday, he ended up double-booking, so suddenly, I was set to host the open house solo! Say what??? Yup, all Friday night I looked at info about the house, including reports, other similar properties in the area, etc. I even created my own open house flyer. But shit, I had no open house road signs and the office was all out of them. And since it was my first one, I was reluctant about posting to social media and such, lest I be caught unprepared.

Needless to say, I stressed and prepared and the next morning, I got up early to preview area comps. By noon, I met up with my colleague who gave me some last minute info. Bc the property was a gated condo building, I had to post signs on the call box to NOT use the intercom (not hooked up to the unit) and to call my cell instead. I busted out my open house plastic bin filled with supplies, including sheet protectors, tape, scissors, etc. And my colleague and his hubby were super impressed. Haha, thanks to my open space days with all those damn events, I know about having a supplies bin!!

Inside the condo, I got settled (I was told to hide the knife block!!) and then off they went. Alone in the unit, I had about 30 minutes before the open house was set to start, and I started getting really stressed– mostly about my safety. Bc all of this happened so fast, I didn’t get to call a lender to ask them to cohost or anything. One of our real estate apps has a safety timer, where you set your location and if you don’t check in with the app after a certain period of time, the app notifies your emergency contact and sends out your location. So I called Bubs, who was still back East, to do a test. Um, test failed. Why? Bc I had super sketchy T-mobile cell signal in the goddamn apartment. WTF?? So then I set up Find my Friends with M and Bubs. I also had a lanyard with a safety whistle and pepper spray. Fuck man, my paranoid parents have pumped me up full of fear, I tell you. Even though it was cold outside, I decided to open the windows so people could hear me should I scream! And then I was fucking freezing. I’m telling you, this realtor shit is chock full of logistical puzzles.

In the end, only three parties visited in three hours. All Asians, and I even busted out my Chinese on the latter two. One guy was an investor and I didn’t have answers to most of his questions. I was so disappointed, and after he left, I realized I didn’t even get his contact info. Jesus Christ, I was so fucking nervous about the questions and then about my safety (not bc of him, just in general). Fortunately, bc he called my mobile at the callbox to let him in, I had his cell! So I found the answers to his questions (Owner occupied? Why selling? How much do similar units go for rent? How much is insurance?) and texted him. For the most part, two of the three parties liked the unit, but then they were turned off by the high HOA.

By the time 4pm rolled around, I was beat and I had a raging headache. But overall, I was proud of myself. I also got some ideas for more materials I want to have on hand next time (i.e. a map of the area with lots of pins to highlight accessibility and proximity to attractions/businesses, etc.).