Fatale Abstraction

Wow. August already? How'd that happen? I'm still bracing for the Y2K crisis. It can't be 2007.
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Tuesday was super-muggy. Decked out in my best, I had to help guide two groups of prospective buyer investors around the property. Very nice people, actually. Several of them have been very unassuming - didn't seem like gazillionaires, though they all are.

One quite refined man said "how much if I just write a check today and take it off your hands? x million$?" I didn't gasp.

Later, I googled the guy and nothing on the internet told me he was very well-heeled, specifically, but I did learn from a jet-setter's blog that he's got a French Riviera beach house next to one owned by the king and queen of a European country. I'm guessing it's not a shack, then.
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I've gotten a nibble on one of my craigslist joints, and just now I listed a couple small collectible items on eVILbay. We'll see what turns up.
I couldn't sleep Monday night, so at 3am I got up and sorted through some things and made a pile for goodwill and a bigger pile for the trash. Gosh, where does it all come from? I mean, I'm an inveterate junker and all, but I never thought I was a packrat. I just can't pass up kooky mid-century kitsch in the junk stores. There's something about finding a piece of collectible pottery signed by the artist in a junk store for .99. Music to my eyeballs.