A few months ago I posted this:

And I got a whole range of comments. Mostly good, but some of them were a little outraged I would disrespect the real estate gods. Some went so far as to say I was the “real estate agent’s nightmare”.

At first, I was a little flummoxed. The thought of being someone’s nightmare was so NOT ME. I’m a little bit of a people pleaser. I still answer most of my instagram questions, even the really fucking stupid ones, and just try to be as “nice” and as “helpful” as possible. The customer is always right, right?! Wrong.

But then I really examined that sentiment. I am the real estate agent’s nightmare. Why? Because I refuse to live in a white box until I ultimately sell my house for a minor profit to the next buyer? And I live in California. If I buy in the right market at the right time, I could make an even higher profit and why would I risk warding off those future buyers with my characteristically loud designs? And then I won’t have enough money to buy my next white box. And then I won’t be able to retire, because I haven’t bought enough white boxes and made enough profit so I can live in comfort until I end up in that other box (in the ground).