Sometimes your favorite real estate agent takes a vacation. It’s true. I know it seems like we’re your doctor or your teacher and it’s weird when you see us at the grocery store because who knew that we ingest food and buy things like Windex and yogurt with active cultures to promote healthy digestion? But we do. And of course, I wrote about what inevitably happens when we do go on vacation this summer, but I’ll paraphrase: the universe rains down business making it nearly impossible to adequately prepare for and enjoy said meticulously planned and already paid for vacation. Ah, Universe, you jokester, you.
I went on a vacation last weekend. Even though it was only a quick little 44 hour jaunt to the Old Pueblo (Tucson! Home of The University of Arizona! Sun Devils can suck it!) the trip required a fairly ridiculous amount of coordinating schedules, childcare finding and flying out, meal planning and groceries for when we were gone and the like. Add in an ear infection, a listing going under contract, a new client in town to view town houses and a broken garage door all in the few days right before we left and by the time we got into the car, I was wondering why we even bothered in the first place. Wouldn’t it be easier and more fun just to carve spears out of chopsticks and shove them under our own toenails?
That said I did manage to get antibiotics and groceries. I got the listing all contractually settled and inspections scheduled. I showed property to the out of town clients and got the garage door repaired and back to working order. I did NOT get the house clean or the laundry put away. Superwoman, I am, apparently, not.
But amazingly, I’m sure only because I was scheduled to leave town, my out of town clients chose a property from the 8 I showed them to write an offer on. I have to admit I have an intense love/hate relationship with the Realtor Vacation Clause. Yes, it sucks that I become so swamped with work it’s difficult to prepare for the trip, but it’s nice to have the business moving forward. How often have I showed a client one set of houses and had them write an offer? Um… let me think for a second… 1, 2… carry the 5… oh, right NEVER.
Luckily, the house my clients wanted was a bank owned property and the banks are closed on the weekends, so I was able to hold off on putting the actual offer together until I got home. I also managed to completely enjoy my trip, once I got down there and shook off the stress and drama.
I’m sure there are a bunch of AS-Poo lovers out there just waiting to comment about what a dusty hole Tucson is and how can I even like going down there. This is my website, however, so I’ve got the definitive word on the subject (in as far as ElizabethNewlin.com Land goes):
ASU is an ugly, soulless, consumer-driven campus powered by orange, faux-tanned silicone boobs. UofA a gorgeous, creative community that thrives on hard work, culture and a desire to help our fellow man. If you actually prefer the Sun Devils to the Wildcats, Tempe to Tucson, you clearly have no soul either and probably visit the Humane Society just to punch puppies. It’s because of you unicorns are extinct.
My trip to Tucson was actually a 10 year reunion of my old crew in college. We came back from far lands to gather, drink, eat fabulous food and shoot the shit just like we did more than a decade ago. I was nervous things would be awkward or strange because it’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Some things were different, but it was amazing how similar the general feel of the group was. It was fabulous to catch up and just bask in the glow of the old group. Even the tag-along spouses and significant others fit in like they’d always been around.
Highlights of the weekend:
• Over breakfast the first morning we all went around the table and told first where we thought we’d be in 10 years when we’d graduated and then where we think we’ll be in 10 years from now.
• Karen to Eric, “So basically you’re an aspiring cult-leader.”
• Touring the campus and feeling old because of the insane number of computers available in the student center.
• Corn pancakes with sweet jalapeno syrup, a ham and cheese on sourdough topped with Béchamel sauce and melted provolone, backyard barbeque carne asada on homemade tortillas.
• The haunted room at Hotel Congress which turned out to be not scary at all.
• S’mores and margaritas over the bonfire.
• Visiting the UAMA (within 100 feet of which Jason and I met, had our first kiss and got engaged at various points over the last 13 years) and seeing the PostSecret.com exhibit.