If you've read my recent posts from the past couple weeks, you'll know that we're attempting to sell our home. Yep, she's still on the market. It's not without interest, though. We've had all kinds of visitors everyday
and holy eff I cannot wait to unload a vent about the things these pig strangers have done in my home - so it's just a matter of time .... heh?
Late last week we were in a particularly good mood as we had repeat showings scheduled with two different parties, both booked at 8:30 PM. For one of these couples, it was their third appointment and they were bringing their parents, which means
they're intellectual infants who should put on their big girl panties and make a decision for themselves there's some serious interest going on. Patrick and I allowed ourselves to get totally greedy and start fantasizing about these potential buyers bumping into each other in our apartment and getting territorial and then us promptly getting two amazing offers the next day to choose from or bargain with.Oh, we were giddy.
And so, to seal the deal, I decided to go all out and sell my soul:
I got cupcakes. From Prairie Girl Bakery.
I still had my beloved donut display out (which I refreshed with new donuts as the original ones were starting to get, uh, warm). But then I thought, "Cupcakes have broad appeal. I can't count on everyone being as hip toward the prowess of donuts as I am. Let's charm the pants off these generically-minded people through baked goods!"
And yes, I really thought that. And, yes, I have that low of an opinion of people I don't know. And, yes, I really thought cupcakes would be the tipping point. And, yes, I am an idiot.
And so I ran to the bakery that I had previously been so disappointed in due to its misleading name and scooped up a half dozen of their cupcakes for the WTF price of $20. I imagine after reading how much I spent on six not-even-personalized cupcakes, several friends and family members from back home just had their suspicions confirmed that I have become a Classic Toronto Douchenozzle. It's true. I am. But, hey, selling and buying a home! Outrageous spending comes with the territory! Defensive Argument Followed By An Exclamation Point!
So I put some cupcakes in the fridge on a precious little stand, next to some bubbly and organic, local strawberries ("Did she just make a point of letting us know the strawberries were organic and local? Ugh. 'Classic Toronto Douchenozzle' is right"). Placed a few on the table - again, on a little glass stand with a note inviting our
chumps dear guests to enjoy them.
Bzz Bzz went my cell phone at 7:45 PM.
It was an e-mail from the real estate booking system:
"8:30 PM Appointment: Canceled."
Aw, crap. One of the parties (the people who would just be there for their second time), had decided to cancel their appointment. Unfortunate and it had surely ruined our dreams of a multiple-offer situation, but ... well, what can you do? Our Realtor later learned that the person coming to see our home was torn between ours and another one nearby - but decided to put in an offer, which was accepted, on the other place. You win some, you lose some, right? And it had always been these third-showing people that we had the most faith in.
So, we took it on the chin, settled in, and ordered another round.
At 8:35 PM, five minutes after the appointment was to start, was this note on my cell phone:
"8:30 PM Appointment: Canceled."
I had actually been in the washroom when the message came in. When I returned to the table, Patrick looked sick and said, "And the three-peaters just fucking canceled too."
And I thought he was joking because Patrick thinks giving people feelings of anxiety is hilarious. It's something I've told him really doesn't make for good jokes but really makes for good divorce proceedings.
But he wasn't joking. And so we dragged our sorry asses back home, defeated and disappointed - but still holding out hope that maybe these people just had to reschedule.
The next day we found out that they had changed their minds about the place. Their Realtor sort of sighed with ours, explaining that he had been to A LOT of homes with them, multiple times, and that they were extremely cautious first-time buyers. In other words, the worst clients he has ever had and the real estate equivalent of prick teases.
Which brings me to this question:
When you think of foods that you eat angrily (surely a topic we've all thought about. No? Just me? Of course.), what comes to mind?
Nuts you have to crack open yourself? Hard-boiled eggs? Anything from the Taco Bell Value Menu?
I have a feeling that 'cupcakes' probably don't come to mind. Despite the fact that I think they're overrated, even I have to admit that cupcakes are light and sweet and happy and the sort of things you serve to celebrate stuff like baby showers and businesses launched by twenty-something girls.
But after I got off the phone with our Realtor, my head slowly turned in the direction of the kitchen. And I know it makes no sense, but my eyes locked onto the puffs of cheerful icing. And I seethed. And I maybe accusingly screamed, "YOU! YOU DID THIS TO ME!" At cupcakes.
And then I ran over and showed those cupcakes a lesson. Disappoint me, will you? Mock me, will you? FEEL MY RAGE, CUPCAKE! The vanilla cake with chocolate frosting got bitten and torn up and then thrown into a vat of stomach acid for good measure. It wasn't an eating experience, it was food torture.
It's a small miracle that I didn't eat the rest of them on the spot. Sure, I had another later on, still angrily, and Patrick had a couple when he got home, not so angrily (unlike his ridiculous wife, he does not have a "strained relationship" with specific baked goods). The cupcakes had started to get a little stale from having sat out, so we tossed the rest, not even bothering to use them as props - out of principle.
Because cupcakes? Are so dead to me. Officially.