Open Houses

I really struggle with forms, especially those that ask me to list my interests and hobbies. I have learned the hard way that in some cases, this one included, honesty isn't always the best policy.

Potential Employer: "You enjoy reading wedding announcements of people you don't know in the newspaper and going to open houses?"

The woman asked me this like it was some kind of mistake.

The miracles of the Internet allow me to peruse the Lifestyle section of the newspaper at my leisure, but there is one insurmountable obstacle that prevents me from attending as many open houses as I would like: namely, CHURCH. Mine is scheduled from 1-4pm on Sundays, which is the exact same day and time that most home sellers in my area open their doors to total strangers.

I think about switching religions every time I drive to church and see a balloon-laden arrow at a busy street corner.


My sacrifices are great.

Two Sundays ago, my one-year-old son came down with a nasty cold. When my husband and I flipped a coin to see who would stay home with him from church, I had an extra reason to hope that fate would fall in my favor: a new listing in our neighborhood. The house has been vacant since September and was recently fitted with new carpeting, something my neighbor Tina and I noticed when we peeked through the home's windows earlier in the week.

I couldn't push my family out the door fast enough.

Tina was inspecting the contents of the kitchen cabinets when Cameron and I made our entrance.

Before I could greet my friend, I was startled from behind. "Welcome!" shouted a woman in a red suit and heels.

Experience has taught me that where there is an open house, there is also a realtor.

"Can you fill this out for me?" the woman asked, as she handed me a piece of paper and a pen.

The form didn't inquire about my hobbies, but it did want to know my name, phone number, and when I planned to move.

I intended to do the polite thing and leave all the fields blank, but Tina told me that the free house tour obliged me to write something.

Believing, falsely, that the realtor might be the only person who shares my passion for other people's property, I professed my love for open houses in the "comments" section of the form.

Sensing a serious customer in her midst, the realtor refused to make eye contact with me for the duration of my visit.