Hearts and Houses for Sale: Looking Good

Hello! Selene here. Click to listen to ME tell you all about what's been happening lately, or read it yourself, below:

My dentist's name is Dr. Chu. I drive over an hour first thing in the morning to get to her office in the San Fernando Valley, but she's worth it. What could be better than a dentist named Dr. Chu? And, I have good teeth. See!

"Hello," Dr. Chu's receptionist calls to me, like she always does as soon as I enter the office. "No problems today?" Her name is Mary.

"I'm fine," I say. She knows the only thing I hate more than cavities are snakes.

"Go in the pink room and have a seat, the hygienist will be with you in a minute," Mary says.

The room is vivid pink. I don't know why. They support breast cancer research? I squirmed into the chair.

"You're on time," the hygienist says as she springs into the room, like any 27 year old would do who has had sex the night before. "I'm going to take x-rays. Okay?"

"Sure. Just don't dig those stiff things into my gums," I say a little too sharply. "They hurt."

"I hate it, too, I know," she says. I see a Chinese figure tattoo on her shoulder where I should not be able to see it, except that her pink -- yes it matches -- scrub shirt is too big and has slipped a little too far west of her bra strap. "You know, I was out with my boyfriend last weekend. We want to buy a house, and, I bit into my cheek when he opened a closet door and there was a room with built-in shelves full of shoes, floor to ceiling."

I had to ask, even as she jammed that hard square x-ray disc way back into my mouth. "Did you buy the house?"

"Don't move," she chirped, then put the lead apron over me. "I better do this. Don't guess you're pregnant, but never know."

The machine made it's noise and she pulled out the gummy gizmo. "Did you..." I repeated.

"Oh, oh, nononono," she said. "It was way too much money, and, we didn't want a hundred steps up to the front door. Well, it was only maybe 20, but I don't want to have to climb 20 steps in heels after we've been out drinking."

Then, bless her heart, Mary called out from her desk. "Selene is a real estate agent. Maybe she can sell your current house. Your agent sure isn't."

She stuck another disc in my mouth. It stung. But then, business isn't pain free.

"You'll have to release your current agent first," I said.

Her pony-tail fell on my cheek--disgusting-- as she leaned in to adjust the stupid thing. "The house needs some work, but we don't expect to make a million on it."

I had to think about that for a few minutes. I wondered what that meant.

A few days later, pictures of her house were on my desk when her now ex-agent called. Stella and Stanley Lewbowsky-- of all names-- had hired me to sell a dump. "So, you're going to sell this place? Port-a-potty for a working bathroom, you know," the agent said. "Let me know how you do it. Word has it you can sell anything."

"It's a listing I have, that you lost," I said because it was true. I had no idea what I'd do. "You can come check it out when it's ready."

In any case, my teeth are white and shiny. I don't have any cavities. And, I have a listing, a challenge of a listing, but a listing. Sigh...

And that's the truth. To some extent.

to be continued