The Poor, Sad Little House Down the Street

The street is Wollacott which is a big name for a street that is only three blocks long.  All of the residents have learned that we'll always have to spell it out for as long as we live on it.

The house looks even worse due to the appearance of the house on the other side of its driveway which has just been refurbished to a fare-the-well.  The contrast is thus made even more vivid.

This house has looked as you see it for at least six months and quite probably longer.  The other day I passed it for the 6,000th time and resolved to do something about it.

I e'd our Councilman and told him.  He asked me to get a street address and  I reiterated plaintively that it doesn't have one but it is directly across the street from 1620 and absolutely unmistakeable.

"Did I know if anyone is living in it? he wrote back.  "Do you want to go over and knock?"  I recoiled in horror!  God only knows what might answer.  The only indication that there may be someone (or something) living there is the fact that I finally noticed a difference in the way the drapes are hung from time to time.

I counter-proposed that perhaps the civilian volunteers of the police department might want to do that.  These people don't carry guns, they drive a little, white sedan with "RBPD Auxiliary" (or equivalent) on it and they check on old people who are known to live alone.  I also think you can call to have them keep an eye on your property if you take a lengthy vacation. 

The very next day, I was down in the office, grinding away at yet another brilliant piece of prose, when I heard a pair of women's voices out on the front porch.  I came to the security door to find a pair of attractively-dressed women of a certain age who presented themselves as brokers for Re/Max, a real estate company. 

After cheery greetings, they perkily asked if we were thinking of selling and I said that we weren't but -IDEA! IDEA! - just down the street was a house that really should be bulldozed and the dirt sold.

They were on this idea like a rat terrier on a rat.  "Oooh," they cooed as one, "a contractor would love that kind of thing!"  All a twitter, they made a note of the location and all but ran up our driveway (in spike heels, no less) headed straight for the next block. 

One week later, everything is exactly the same.  To Be Continued.