Saturday, February 13, 2016

the weekend of good pink

I shall for a long time recall this weekend as the one with all that pink stuff strewn about it. From the first moment of daybreak, on the ground, in the early sunlight, with a touch of gold...

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At the breakfast table, in the sun room, where a pelargonium popped open...

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I know -- big deal, you're thinking. These are stock Ocean images. Is it that the days are showered with Valentine motifs?

Not exactly. Here's the story:

This cold cold morning (0F, or -18C),  I wake up to a predawn message from my sister: call me. Of course, I'm excited. I stumble down to the kitchen and open up Skype. My 5 am is her noon. I had asked her to look at a real screamer of an apartment. Same great location of my last offer, but this unit is different in that it presents itself terribly on the Internet. For one thing, it's painted a deep and profoundly disturbing shade of pink.

Nothing else about the place looks attractive: indifferent kitchen corner, awful bathroom. And of course, you're blinded by the brashness of the walls.

She came back with a report: nice owners, renting it out to very nice students of music. (Not surprising -- it's right next to the Chopin University School of Music -- one of the oldest and largest music schools in Europe). Any other stellar points? Well, it's a prewar building, which means high ceilings. Nice floor boards too. That's about it. As expected, everything else lives up to its reputation in the photos: very unattractive. The building itself -- rather ordinary. With sprays of graffiti.

I give it a few minutes' thought. I call her back. I want to make an offer.

Have I gone mad??

No, as Ed says -- I've learned a lot about real estate in Warsaw.

I haven't heard back yet. But I will within a day or two. And if I find myself owning a pink apartment in Warsaw with terrible everything in it, you'll be hearing about the next step: the renovation.

Happy Valentine's Day weekend to you too!

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In other news -- I stood outside and washed the car for fifteen minutes (I know this, because that's how much time you get with the hose at the car wash for $5) in frigid weather (Lilly now has balls of ice liberally sprinkled all over her clean body) only to remember on the drive home that we're promised a big snow tomorrow. Ed says that it has been shown that some people have a gene that causes them to pay for a car wash just as the snow is about to fall. I think he's joking, but perhaps not.