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Friday, May 05, 2000

Realty is not Reality

Do you suppose when realtors get home at the end of the day, they start pointing out all the crappy things they can find, talking about how ugly everything is, how mundane, how unworthy of value or notice? They must, if there is to be any balance in their lives, any semblance of honesty.

Here's a page with all the pictures I took today.

I'm exhausted. I can't imagine living in any of these houses -- simply because I've been trying to do that all day and that part of my brain is pau.

We had dinner at the pizza joint. The place was actually crowded, and there were two guys playing guitar and singing a Hawaiian tune the whole time we were there. Actually, judging by the pauses and applaud, it was many tunes, but I couldn't tell. The waitress was not of yesterday's trio, and she seemed entirely unhappy at our presence, right down to delivering Garrett* and Samantha's unopened cans of root beer with a good table-slam designed to elicit foam.

The pizza itself was decent, though a wee slim on sauce and cheese as seems the default these days.

Our tablemates told us the volcano is really flowing as of a few days ago, so we may break from our agenda and partake in some tourism tomorrow.

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