Last week, we looked at a home in Princeton for a not unreasonable price (under $2,000), and I knew as soon as we walked in that it was a no. I loved the house itself--it was an old home with wainscoting and glass doorknobs and built in bookshelves and a window seat, but it was super small (two bedrooms--one of them had an old fireplace in it and was only big enough to fit a small cot), but even more offoutting was the landlord showing us around. She would be living above us. Within ten minutes, she said three negative things about the previous tenants (wore clunky shoes, choose hideous window blinds that she asked them to remove, broke the ancient stove), and so I had that split moment where I knew we weren't interested, but didn't want to rude and just leave. Like, if I had no social graces at all, I would've walked in, watched her imitation of the grad students who previously occupied the space, and bid her farewell. Instead, I kept inching toward the door and nodding my head, thinking, I will never seen this woman again, except maybe in Small World coffee shop, where I will likely find her complaining to the barrista that her coffee is too hot. We will be looking at another house in Princeton tomorrow, though the woman already warned Dan that it's "not much to look at on the inside." I will let you know how that goes.
|We will never have this.|