But While I'm on the Subject

The time? 3 years ago. The place? Harrisburg PA. Mitch and I are house hunting. As usual. I was a Realtor at the time and we were looking to buy a house and move out of our condo. For this showing the seller's agent insisted on being there, something I absolutely hate. The house? Was phenomenal. And affordable. I almost cried when I saw the beautifully upgraded kitchen in this early 1900's stone home. It looked like something out of a movie. So I am wandering through the house, letting the listing agent ramble on and on, wondering if he knows that the only thing talking does is distract buyers from actually looking at the property.

I wander away from the kitchen and into a "den" off the side of the home. I am looking around in there and wander back out, distracted by the other Realtor's jabbering. Several minutes later, the other agent follows us upstairs and asks if we saw the full bath downstairs in the den, saying that room could easily be a first floor master. I hadn't noticed it so we went back down. And then? As I entered the room? I saw it. How the HECK did I miss it the first time?

There? On the wall? Is an oil painting of the creepiest, most sinister, evil looking clown I ever have seen in my life. EVER. I am telling ya'll, Stephen King's IT has nothing on this clown. I have an immediate reaction. I can't breathe, I can't look, I close my eyes and whirl around, scrambling for the door. Ya'll? My feet were slippin' and slidin' like a cat rounding a corner. I couldn't think. My husband grabs my arm and asks what is wrong. I can't even talk, I just point. I am supposed to be a professional, thank god I wasn't with a "real" client, thank god it was just us. I keep pointing to the wall on which the offensive clown is hanging. I try to think what to do.

The listing agent is trying to get us into the bathroom but I am going to have to walk past that THING to get in there. I can't do it. I am shaking my head furiously and I wave away hubby, telling him to go look and get him off our back. "Come on in here and look at this bathroom, it is great, very roomy." Says the agent. "Oh, I am fine, my husband will check it out for me." I couldn't breathe, I was scrambling to get out of that room and out the back door. Air I need air. "Oh, but you need to see these upgrades, and I will show you how I think this would work as a master." "Me? I can't." It was obvious at this point that Mr. Salesman-of-the-Month wasn't going to let it go so I had to tell him.

Me: "I have a clown phobia."
Him: "What?" I am sure he was thinking what that has to do with anything.
Me: (Still standing in the kitchen near the back door so I can't see the Evil Thing. And probably talking a bit too loudly.) "Clowns, I can't do clowns. That is the scariest thing I have ever seen."
Him: "What? Oh, this?" As if he just noticed it. Yeah, right. A smile comes over his face.
Me: "YES, that is horrible. It is SO creepy. Why would anyone want to own that, that, that thing?!"
Him: "Actually the homeowner painted it. She's an artist."
(well, of course she did)
Me: **staring at him through the doorway with laser beam eyes**
Him: "What, you don't like it? He's called The Creeper."
(weakly smiling and going all Southern on him because I just basically called his client a freak)
Me: "Well, I suppose it is fine. I mean I am sure she did a great job. I mean obviously she has a lot of talent. Y'know, if scaring people is the purpose of it, it sure worked." *hahaha pitiful laugh* but inside my head was....
"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF NORMAL PERSON WOULD EVER IMAGINE SOMETHING THAT FREAKY MUCH LESS WASTE THEIR ARTISTIC TALENTS PAINTING IT AND PUTTING IT UP IN THEIR HOME??????????"
Him: "Well, if that is all..."
Me: "Oh, I think that is all."

Moral of this story. Even if you love that kind of scary-art, (and I know some do. not that there's anything wrong with that) never EVER leave it up on your wall when you try to sell your house.

Same goes for nudie pictures of yourself or your spouse. (But that's a story for another day.)

You're welcome.