House # 2

To be honest, I don't really remember house #2 all that well. I believe it was built in the nineteen fifties. The interior was nice, but the yard stretched on for a country mile. I stood in the backyard, picturing myself mowing the lawn on a Saturday while S stirred up some lemonade. Then I pictured myself sitting in an air conditioned house watching a football game, and I realized that this wasn't the house for me.

A: "The yard is too big."
S: "The yard is too big?"
A: "I keep talking with my brother and my dad and they're spending all their time in the yard slaving away on weekends."

Had a brief conversation with the seller. We exchanged pleasantries. He kept trying to sell us on the big master bedroom that didn't have a door. I wanted to ask how much a door would have cost. In my understanding, you can have one painted in about ten seconds. Then again, most of my knowledge comes from Looney Tunes cartoons that I watched when I was seven. I may not be the best home buyer. I always imagine myself walking in, setting down a hat of some sort, preferably a fedora, and asking the agent all sorts of incisive questions.
"What's the insulation like in this place?"
"Do you have any mold problems?"
"Why is their a staircase on the third floor that leads to nowhere?" (At this point I'm actually looking at the Winchester Mystery House)
"What are the property taxes?"
"If I wanted to start an Alpaca farm do you think the neighbors would be amenable?"
"Does this place have a washer and dryer hook up?"
"How do I look in this shirt? It feels a little tight through the shoulders, but I can never get a proper look at my back in the mirror?"
"Is the basement finished?"
"How much would it cost to remodel this kitchen?"
"How many kids do you think we could chain in the crawl space in the attic?" "What, no. It's really more of a hypothetical thing."
And so on.