Hunting high and low

Today was Real Estate Day. The dream of finding a Place in the Sun has always been present, albeit for long periods of time, dormant. Now were the time and the opportunity to see if anything was waiting for us “out there”.  We had made an arrangement to meet up with a real estate agent, well known by the generous owners of the house we are currently borrowing. Bright and early, wide eyed, fit for fight, we showed up at her office in downtown Albir. The deal was to have a little chat and then maybe view a couple of possible prospects. Our specifications for a property was quite specific and precise, but not being a novice in the game, the agent had picked out houses within different categories.
 We started off looking at apartments, went on to town houses, an eventually ended up concentrating on villas with the works; several patios, a range of bedrooms, more bathrooms than we ever would wish to clean, wardrobes fit for a Mrs. Beckham, pool, Jacuzzi, fountains, with big gardens which we had sworn we would never take on, and without sea-view and-access, which had definitely been on top of the list.
The more houses we saw, the more tired we got, and our judgement quickly deteriorated from bad to catastrophic. The agent, extremely nice, extraordinarily competent and of course eager to sell, sensed the onset of our weakened condition and started showing us estates, yes, that would be the word, way out of our price range. By now we were delirious from lack of food and drink, but she continued driving, showing us this area and that, hacienda upon hacienda. When she realized that we were now so exhausted that we weren’t able to see straight, let alone hold a pen for signing a contract, she took us, just to be nice, by the Norwegian Seaman’s Church and the location of the Englishman’s market. We nodded in appreciation, but there was not a braincell in our head capable of taking in neither location nor direction, so if we ever find our way back there it will be a sheer case of happy coincidence.
Back at the office, I dove into a fruitplate, probably there for ornamental purposes, but I would have eaten the fruit even if it were made of plastic. Trying, out of modesty, to restrain myself, I forced myself to only pick up a banana, which I gobbled up faster than a monkey can say, well …anything. The glass of water I was offered quickly went the same way, and I am positive that the other agents in the office, watching us, must have marvelled at the Norwegian lady, fairly well dressed, but obviously starving, eating away at their window decorations.
Thus having retrieved a few of our marbles, we got in the car and drove home, stopping only to pick up some essensials at the supermarket, to ensure that we didn’t have to move more muscles than absolutely necessary during the remainder of the day. It’s amazing though, what a little food and a short rest can do, because before the day was over, we had put in several hours of work, more food and just a sufficient amount of wine to agree that the day had been extremely successful.
But now you have to excuse me, I have to go in and remove book and glasses from my good friend’s pillow and turn off her light. That book will last her a loooong time, that’s for sure.
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