Morning.
Ahh, morning. Time to sit down with the paper, some toast, and a piping hot cup of real estate agent who won’t go away.
(Found with Fenneke’s help on forum.fok.nl, which is well worth a poke around if, by any chance, you like poorly chosen photos from real estate listings.)
Loveliest comment, by Jano: Sipping coffee and checking the obits in the morning news must be a cross-cultural phenomenon.
For the record, “fok” is the Afrikaans word for f*ck..
Ha! That’s how I was reading it.
I’m not going to lie…That’s a pretty cool house. I just don’t want to wake up every morning getting a lecture about “Di-a-bee-tus” and where I can get my medical supplies.
is that a bong on the desk?
Grandpa!!!!!
Heidi?
It comes with a Grandpa?!? Sweet! I miss my own old grandpop, and I think I’d really like having one again!
I can just hear the real estate agent now: “No, no need to leave. Just go about your day. Pretend I’m not even here.”
Ed Asner has breakfast!
Is it morning? Or evening?
It looks to me like Pops came home from work, unplugged the phone, hung his watch on the wall, whacked Grandma (her purse is still on the floor in the lower left, and the body bag is on the chair in the foregroud left), and got himself a cuppa.
“Now, Edna, for ONCE I’m going to READ the damn’ PAPER in PEACE!”
OMG, it’s like you were THERE!
*shifty-eyed*
No, no, no-no, I wasn’t there. Why would you think that?
And here I thought it was because ROOMBA was there…
Well, maybe it’s because Roomba is due to arrive soon. What right-minded person doesn’t clean up before the cleaner comes?
Ah, ROOMBA! *gets misty*
I puffy-pink-cotton-candy-HEART Roomba.
I named it “Hair and Allergen Liquidator.” (And guess what I call it, for short? Hee!) And I could write volumes on why I PPCCH Roomba. It trundles merrily–and QUIETLY, for a vacuum–around the room, inconspicuously doing a job I detest and occasionally tickling my foot with its toe-molding brush. Sometimes, in what is either a burst of electronic affection or nearsightedness, it trundles right up onto my bare foot; after a brief tickle of its brushes, it stops, pauses (with a distinct “oh-I-beg-your-pardon!” air, I swear!), backs up, turns, and trundles away.
I must stop, or I will REALLY wax poetic. *dabs eyes*
Oh, I’m so glad it’s behaving well. Mine are “Rosie” (of course) and “mopping robot” (we hope to come up with a better name at some point).
Thank you, again, Sara!! Had I known how much I would like HAL, I would have purchased one long ago. I’m not going back. I’m never going back…
*blouse falls to the floor*
(see if anyone gets THAT reference!)
I had one thought about MOpping RoboT: Mort?
It’s aspirational. Buy this house, and you too can be a fat old guy enjoying coffee.
Sipping coffee and checking the obits in the morning news must be a cross-cultural phenomenon.
Please tell me that’s not a two-burner cooktop. I had a three-burner cooktop at one time (because one switch was out) and one Thanksgiving, I threw a temper-tantrum over it that ended with me bursting into tears. And I was only cooking for three people.
I need to admit that I actually like this one. It’s so full of peace and comfort!
“Cosy cottage for rural retreat: comes complete with resident ogre.”