The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

You Know It’s Monday When…

It’s not even 10am and the list of things I’ve said or have been said to me this morning include:

By me: No, no, no, nonono! The rubber band does not ever go around the cat’s neck.

To me: So don’t jump off a bridge or anything, but…

To me: If you call me a party animal, I will be your best friend.

By me: Just to recap, you gave my client permission to go into the property to clean the carpets this weekend, then before we could get in you removed the lockbox and refused to return my calls for the last 60 or so hours. Can we please discuss what is going on here?

By me: No, I don’t have a member number. I’m returning the call of the insurance agent who represents the kid who ran his car into my rental property last week…

But hey, I did restock my Diet Coke and Wine supply yesterday (which had dipped below the ‘Homicidally Low’ line) so I haven’t actually stabbed anyone or myself yet today. Although the day is young.

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