Seriously, I must have missed the trend...the lettering that you put onto your wall in some scripty font.
I have seen these in so many foreclosed homes, I can't even count. But I've also seen them in very expensive properties. Instead of "I got a Glock in my Rari" they say "Live, Love, Laugh". Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse.
Then there are the wonderful bits of art that come in all different forms....
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| This was in one of the worst houses I've ever been in. The whole house was covered in graffiti |
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| This spells Jesus, right? |
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| Did someone do this WHILE they lived in the house? |
Graffiti is cool. If nothing else, it makes you remember a house....but I'm one of those scaredy cats that hated horror movies as a kid. I am easily startled, my mind races, and I believe deeply in the supernatural. Spirits, ghosts, entities, you name it.
All that having been said, I still go preview houses on my own all the time. I know, I know, Realtor safety!! It's a tough decision...do I go into a vacant house for 10 minutes by myself? Or do I wait to find someone that can go with me? What if I want to go through 3 or 4 houses in an afternoon for a client, and everyone I trust, or would ask, is also busy? What would YOU do?
My husband (Rob, aka "Flip it Good, Flip it Real Good") flips houses as a career. And as his primary (#1, rather, ONLY) agent, he asks me to go to look at houses he is considering buying all the time. Sometimes we go together, sometimes, we can't and I go alone. One day he sent me to a two houses in the same neighborhood in New Britain. They were both rental properties for college students. It was another one of those HOT, sunny days. When I got there, there is a 20 pane glass door, with the pane by the handle broken out. NOT a good sign. And in the first room...I come across this....
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| Seriously??? Am I on Candid Camera?? |
All righty then! My heart races, I start to sweat immediately, and I look up, in what feels like slow motion, assuming I will see some someone standing in front of me. A squatter or punk kid laughing hysterically at me at best, and Michael Myers at worst.
I started talking to myself, LOUDLY as I raced through the rest of the rooms in the house. Yes, I did. I looked in every room. I DID NOT go into the basement. I just couldn't do it. As I left, I yelled "I'M LEAVING!" praying there would be no one behind me. I'm 99% sure my tires squealed and made smoke as I pulled away from the house.
Welcome to my Real(tor) Life.
