Surreal estate

I’m sitting at home this afternoon, installing Mac OS X “Panther” and getting some programming done. All the while, potential buyers occasionally mill about the house, oohing and aahing at the hardwood floors and the exposed brick, and asking what on earth possesses a youngish-looking male bachelor (one of them refused to believe that I remember 8-track tapes from my childhood) to own cream-coloured couches.

I’ve got iTunes set on “shuffle play”, randomly picking tunes from my collection. As a supremely WASPish couple peek in my room — I can almost smell the lawyerliness wafting off the gentleman’s worsted wool blazer and Signum shirt — iTunes deicdes that the next song shall be The Forgotten Rebels’ Fuck Me Dead. The presence of mind that comes from years of dealing with odd situations and even odder people allows me to hit the “mute” button on my keyboard in time to prevent a faux pas.

I’ve just switched iTunes from “shuffle” and chosen the Amelie soundtrack.