Right now it's relatively empty but getting filled with each new Gluckenflibber and StickleGrocken that I assemble from the good folks at Ikea.
Starting from scratch is never easy, nor inexpensive. So my daughter and her roommate are scouring the internet for 2nd hand stuff. And actually purchasing it.
That means I have to go into a lot of people's homes. A lot of strangers, that is.
Which, if you haven't guessed is a lot different than going into the homes of friends or family. Normal people, that is.
Last week we ventured down to Inglewood. And parked outside the California Cool Coco Market, a funky bodega worth of a funky camera angle.
The outside of the apartment building we entered was equally funky. With all manner of toys, broken chairs and Big Wheels strewn about the courtyard. A little disconcerting considering we were there to buy someone else's couch.
But we were pleasantly surprised. The couch seller's apartment was surprisingly clean and well kept. And the white couch, with the exception of one small stain on the ottoman, was surprisingly white.
A friend of mine who did house calls for a technical equipment company would tell me all kinds of horror stories about going into stranger's houses. Including the time he had to replace a modem that was inconveniently located in the house's "Sex Room."
"I'm going back to my truck for my HazMat suit."
Finally, on this awkward topic, there is a house in my neighborhood that scares the bejesus out of all the neighbors. The owners are confirmed hoarders.
Weeks ago, I was walking my dog Lucy and noticed a truck from Best Buy had parked in their driveway. I walked past it on the way to my destination, Lucy's favorite pooping spot a few blocks over. When I was returning, I saw the Best Buy delivery guy rolling his dolly out of the house and back into his truck.
He saw me looking at him and rolled his eyes. I was not within earshot of the home owner and so I casually remarked to the guy...
"Is it as scary as I think it is in there?"
"Oh no, it's scarier."
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