Last night SHG and I had just embarked on hedonistic sinful gay evening of South Beach Chicken Surprise, 60 Minutes, and unloading the dishwasher around 17:40, when the phone rings and it's the Central Showing service that handles agent/buyer visits:
CSS: Agent so-and-so with so-and-so would like to visit between 18:00 and 19:30.
Me: Like, as in right now?
CSS: Yes.
Me: OK!!
What then ensued was a mad 15 minute whirlwind of cleaning up pots and pans, tidying, herding cats and dogs, turning on lights, arranging flowers, etc etc etc by ourselves as G&D were off watching the Packers. But, we did it! Then we went to Fuddruckers for no-carb burger platters.
Upon return, we found, um, this image lurking on the kitchen table and it scared the FUCK out of me. It's the glamour shot of an agent off the business card (not my agent, mind you!!).
I eat small children...
