We'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it is futile to deny what is so blatantly true. I'll just say it, then: each of us in the Belvedere Mansion grows increasingly jealous by the day. The object of our jealousy is no less than Claire's 1996 black, radio-less, tail-pipe-dragging, battery-less, air-condition-free Honda Civic. Yes, it's a sad state to be in (for us, not the car).
Civic has sat in our driveway for months, neglected, unwanted, decomposing before our eyes. Yet in a Mahana-like turn of events, suddenly Civic has become desperately wanted, even coveted. Without even the advantage of Craig's list marketing, Civic has managed to muster up several suitors in just 2 days. Men have been checkin her out something fierce. She has experienced aggressive courting, men fighting over her, offers of love affairs, and ever increasing monetary promises.
Today we came home to a note of last resort:
"I would like to buy your (love) but you talked to another guy about it [unfaithful!]. I will give you *$800* cash for your (love) [money talks] and I won't even talk to the other man about it [intrigues pique interest]. It will just be between you and me [baby, oh baby]. Call me as soon as you can [sold!]. I have cash. Tonight!"
Oh, to have the suitors of a run-down Civic.