My real estate agent and friend Shelley took me house hunting this week.
I understand this may be confusing news, considering I was just telling you how much I have longed to move to New York.
Let's just say I'm not always completely (or ever) sure what I want and I like to keep my options open.
Plus, Shelley and I both like real estate and hanging out with each other, so a morning of house-hunting is always enjoyable, and, we learned Wednesday, an opportunity for comedy.
We approached the third house with some trepidation, since the selling agent had given specific instructions about how to handle the dogs that lived there. Shelley and I could hear the dogs before could see them; the barks coming from the house were loud and not at all friendly. While Shelley retrieved the key, I opted to see exactly what kind of canines we were dealing with. I gasped when through the window, I found this:
Someone isn't excited about moving.