Baglett

I made two outstanding discoveries this morning. One - I should not be allowed out on school nights and two - drinking copious amounts of alcohol will get you drunk resulting in an obscene hangover. The Single Sidekick and I went out for a romantic dinner last night which turned into a mix-a-drink party. Why I felt the need to drink sherry, then wine, then some sort of metholated spirits is beyond me. Apparently I arrived home and was trying to put on a sexy show for the Wine Merchant which ended up with me tripping over my own feet and hitting my head on the side of the couch. Nothing says passion killer like a drunk person lying on the floor shouting 'I need medical attention STAT!'

My new cleaner started today and it became quite clear within five minutes of her arriving that she's completely unstable. I had asked her to come at 7:30 and at 6:30 the buzzer went. The Wine Merchant kicked me and mumbled 'the buzzer' to which I replied 'Hello Buzzer'. Ten minutes later we realised there was someone pushing the buzzer and it was Miriam. Letting her in I went back to bed and five minutes later the door swung open to reveal Miriam in all her cleaning uniform glory. This was clearly a person with no concept of privacy.

When she left to go into the garden to look for fairies, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get to know the real Mental Miriam, what makes this bundle of unstable joy tick.

So Miriam, do you have children?

She thought about this for a while which made me think she was separating fairies from children and got a very excited look on her face and shouted,

Two! A boy and a girl!

Happy she didn't say a cactus and a fern, I probed deeper.

How old are they?

91 and 85.

A quick calculation meant that Mental Miriam was roughly a hundred and ten. I was about to ask her what anti wrinkle cream she used when she hit me with:

What's for breakfast?

And then fell about laughing for ten minutes. I was clearly in danger and needed to take control of the situation.

Me: Any other questions you have, breakfast or otherwise, ask the Wine Merchant.

I shouted goodbye and headed out the door only to look back to see that Miriam had taken my suggestion quite literally and was heading towards the bathroom door. Since the Wine Merchant was in the shower, I waited until I heard 'What the f*Ck!?' and made myself scarce. If I come and find her dancing around with a plunger stuck on her head, I won't be suprised.

The Cool One and I were sitting on the couch on Saturday night discussing poignant topics. Topics such as whether my mirror was a fat one or a thin one. The Cool One was adamant is was a thin one when I was convinced it was a normal one. The fact that the reflection made us look like we were 6 feet tall with legs the width of toothpicks was besides the point. We were in mid mirror change when the phone rang telling me it was The Single Sidekick.

SS: Hi Tart
Me: Hi Slutbag. What you doing?
SS: I’ve just finished my 95th glass of wine and would like to go out.
Me: Can’t right now, I’m working.
SS: On what?
Me: My self confidence.
SS: It’s too late for that. Let’s go shake a shoe somewhere.
Me: I have new shoes!
SS: Great! Pick me up in ten. My car is too drunk to drive.

The rest of the evening was spent with the Single Sidekick and The Cool One going from club to club. When I was hit on by a twenty year old and an 18-year-old almost vomited on my new shoes, I pulled everyone off the dance floor and headed to the bar.

Me: Do you guys feel old?
TCO: I just want to sit down and have a conversation.
SS: Is it rude if I take my shoes off and put my feet up?

After forcing ourselves to stay out till 5am we went home. I walked in to find the Wine Merchant watching a DVD with his mates.

Me: What time did you get back?
WM: 1 o’clock.
Me: Why so early?
Wine Merchant’s mate: I started talking to this girl who turned out to be 17. I felt like a paedophile so we left. Why are you back so late?
Me: We wanted to prove to ourselves we could still manage to be the last ones to leave a place. Night guys, wake me up on Tuesday.

I’ve decided I’ve let myself go in terms of partying and am going to go out on week nights. No one wants to join me but my 18-year-old cousin is keen. It’s going to be sad, but it’s necessary to cling onto my youth.

I'm severely hungover. I made a compound sentence this morning and then did a victory dance of clapping my hands together like a seal. And then almost vomited. I found a vuvuzela in my bed this morning which I don't remember buying and found trails of pizza from the fridge to my bed which I don't remember eating.

To avoid any further exhaustion from trying to piece together last night, I'm taking the lazy route and posting the new Baglett article from AbouTime magazine. I got a very nice email from them this morning saying,

'Baglett, we thank you again for sending us your schedule and highlighting when you are available for free flights. Unfortunately we do not handle flights, we are purely focused on the magazine.'

I replied with an attachment of a wedding invitation for June in Durban that I really want to go to. Obviously they need more proof of my travel needs.




Go to http://www.aboutime.co.za/index.php/home/ for some work avoidance. Something I will be majoring in today.

Before I moved, I realised I would have to do something with the psychotic cat that had adopted our household. The Housemate was subtly hinting that perhaps the cat should live with me. I knew this because she said things like ‘When are you taking that cat with you?’, so I decided to settle in first before I introduced Pyscho to his new home.

While moving boxes from the house to the car, the cat followed me back and forth and howled. It was heart breaking and I was in a complete state. Picking up the cat, I attempted to cuddle the thing and went full ‘abooooboooboooo’ on its ass with ‘who’s the cutest munchkin in da world? You are, no YOU are’. While I was in mid-smother a woman got out of her car and walked up to me.

Woman: Is that your cat?
Me: Yes.
Woman: Do you feed it?

No, I wait for Red Cross kitty packages to drop from the sky.

Me: Yes. Why?
Woman: That’s my cat.

Shit.

Me: It is? I thought he was homeless.
Woman: No, he lives with me.
Me: But he told me he was homeless.
Woman: He told you?
Me: Well, not in words but he kinda gave that impression.
Woman: He’s not fully domesticated so he wanders.
Me: So when he’s not with me, he’s with you?
Woman: Yes
Me to cat: He’s cheating on me!?

I thought back to when I went away over Christmas and felt so guilty about leaving him, I went and bought him a bucket full of toys and wrapped them. I spent a fortune on a special automatic feeder and still made The Wine Merchant’s sister come in every second day so the cat wasn’t lonely.

Woman: Listen, I really don’t mind.
Me: I mind! Don’t you feel cheated?
Woman: It’s a cat.
Me: It’s symbolic.

So I moved in with The Wine Merchant this weekend. I had visions of us hanging paintings together, laughing while we hung curtains, choosing where to put lamps while I made innapropriate bunny shadows on the wall. It was going to romantic, it was going to be fun and we would love it.

How wrong I was.

The movers were a day late and even then only arrived in the afternoon. Pieces of furniture arrived that I had never seen before and my Dad, who had coordinated the move from Cape Town, obviously thought it would be hysterical to pack in a single bed. By the time the boxes came off the truck, I was exhausted, tired, having severe sense of humour failure and ready to kill the Wine Merchant if he came near me.

WM: What the hell is that thing?
Me: It's an antique washbasin.
WM: It's a second hand table with a hole in it.
Me: Why are you sulking?
WM: If I wanted to move in with my Gran, I would.
Me: Well since you have such superior taste why don't you take yourself down to Bradlows and get yourself something nice.
WM: And what is this? Did Napolean drop it off on his way to war? What are you doing with my Playstation?
Me: I'm putting it in this cupboard so I won't have to see it.
WM: Awwww the cupboard that clearly belonged to Vasco da Gama. Do not throw my Playstation Baglett!
Me: Why are you putting up those curtains?
WM: Because they're curtains.
Me: Did you vomit on them?
Wm: No.
Me: Maybe you should, it would only improve the pattern. No, that thing is NOT living here!
WM: It was a gift!
Me: A SHIP IN A BOTTLE?! Are you friggin kidding me?!
WM: Are you upset because it's not Vasco da Gama's ship?


In the end I threw him out to watch rugby while I went and got drunk with The Marketer, The Housemate and the Single Sidekick. By the time I got back I was feeling much better and when The Wine Merchant got home he found his stupid ship, sans bottle, floating in the bath.

I recently made a conscious decision to be more assertive. No doormat here, noooo siree! My first challenge was the cat. The blood pouring out of my arm and ankles were an indication of how well that went down but I was not going to give up. But when the movers phoned to say they were running a day late, I was not charmed and saw this a perfect opportunity. They were meant to pitch up on Monday to meet my Dad at the storage unit, load all my stuff and hightail it to Jo’burg. While my Dad patiently waited at the unit, I got a call at 3pm to say they were not going to make it but would come through tomorrow. Making sure they knew just how irritating that was, I put a call through to my Dad who was equally uncharmed but said they could fetch everything the next day after 12.

They rocked up at 10:30am and I got a call at 12 from the manager who told me his guys could not wait any longer and they were leaving. Seeing the opportunity to tell him what’s what, I laid into him. Using phrases like ‘don’t take that tone with me’ and ‘This is unacceptable’ followed with ‘Wait till my lawyers here about this’ which was completely over the top since I don’t have lawyers and I didn’t really think this was a legal issue but I was getting completely into it and couldn’t stop. I was also fuelled by the fact that I was in a busy restaurant at the time and was enjoying the audience listening to my forceful rant. I put the phone down on him with ‘I will never use your company again!’ It was dramatic, it was forceful, and it was impressive.

Five minutes later I get a phone call from the same man who was very apologetic and promised his men would return immediately and my worldly possessions would be on their way to Jo’burg in no time. I put in a call to my Dad to tell him the good news.

Me: Dad you should have heard me! I was amazing!
Dad: I did hear you. The guy phoned me and we had a good laugh.
Me: But I was assertive! I used the word ‘unacceptable’!
Dad: He said you were hyperventilating and stuttering.
Me: Just on the word unacceptable. I warmed up towards the end though.
Dad: He also said you dropped the phone.
Me: My hands were clammy from the nerves. It just slipped out.
Dad: Don’t worry Baglett, you'll get there. Weren’t you going to give your cleaner a good talking too?
Me: I gave her a raise
Dad: Start with a plant or a couch maybe.
Me: Sigh. Will do.

So on Friday evening, Genius here was off to meet the regulars at the local for the usual and needed to draw money. Because I had my catwoman outfit from a previous party in my boot I decided there was no need to go to a well lit ATM but a more challenging quiet ATM in a shopping centre. With a security guard hovering around and my catwoman outfit only meters away, I thought I was good to go.

I put my card in the machine, tried to punch in my code, it wouldn’t let me so I took my card out again. Like a genie out of a pot plant, a man appeared behind me, used his card, and withdrew money. He assured me there was nothing wrong with the machine and I should try again. When I looked behind me, the one man had mysteriously multiplied into five men who started singing ‘Type in your pin, type in your pin!’ Just when I was debating whether to make a run for it or get my catwoman outfit out the boot, the trusty security guard came to my rescue.

Security guard: Ma’am, is there a problem here?
Me: Just a little one, the machine has swallowed my card and these five amigos are harassing me.
SG: Ma’am it’s fine, just punch in your code!

Because I was born with highly tuned investigative skills, it only took me ten seconds to work out that perhaps, the security guard was not the honest, public safety man he claimed to be and was in on this little ATM For All mission. Managing to get my card out of the machine, and out of the very crowded circle, I hopped into my car while they continued to tell me that I had not ‘logged off’ and I needed to type in my pin. Since that was getting slightly tiresome I zoomed out of there and headed for the hills.

I’ve now cancelled my card, notified the mall’s management that their guard perhaps is hanging out the wrong crowd and asked Nedbank for the security footage. At one point I was flinging my arms around so much, I think it may make for great viewing.

I’m not very good at grooming. I find the whole manicure/pedicure thing a complete effort and ten minutes after some poor woman has painted my nails, I am picking it away merrily while knocking my freshly painted toes and smearing the polish all over my shoe. Clearly it has become a noticeable problem since this Christmas I received three pedicure kits and four vouchers for manicures. Subtle. The vouchers have yet to be used and I used one of the foot loafers as a pot plant decoration.

So when I do go through the laborious task of grooming it needs to be celebrated. On Saturday after spending three and half painful hours at the hairdresser I came home to find The Housemate and The Cool One drinking wine on the balcony.

Me: So what are we doing tonight?
CO: Nothing.
Me: But I cut my hair!
CO: So?
Me: So that constitutes a club.
HM: Baglett, the last time you had a pedicure you made us go out for a five hour long boozy lunch.
Me: Maximum toe exposure.
CO: And when you had a manicure you spent the next week talking with your hands and pointing at stuff instead of talking.
Me: Those babies needed to be seen!
HM: Quick question. What do we have to do when you cut your hair, have a manicure and have a pedicure?
Me: Come to my wedding?

Yesterday at 3pm:

Dad: Baglett!
Me: Dad! Where are you?!
Dad: I'm in Jo'burg!
Me: ShutUP! Awesome! So what are we doing?!
Dad: Nothing! I'm on the 5pm flight home!
Me: So why are you phoning me?!
Dad: To let you know I'm here and I don't have time to see you!
Me: That's really nice of you Dad!
Dad: I thought so! Gotta go Baglett, was great catching up!
Me: Phone me when you're next in Jo'burg and we won't get together again!
Dad: Will do! Bye!
Me: Bye!

What an idiot.

I googled the top ten stressful things in life and got:

1. Divorce / breakup
2. Bereavement
3. House moving
4. Losing job
5. Wedding planning
6. Work
7. Kids / Family
8. Debt
9. Commuting
10. Studying for exams

My list of top ten stressful things:

1. Moving
2. The Wine Merchant
3. Moving
4. My bank manager who is shouting at me about spending so much money on moving
5. The Wine Merchant moving with me
6. The botoxed lady at the gym with the scary face
7. Moving
8. The pothole on fifth which moves according to where my car is on the road
9. Not having enough wine in the house
10. Moving

Our new landlord, who seemed fairly normal, seems over the moon that The Wine Merchant and I will be taking great care of his house. Keeps saying things like ‘I know you will look after the garden’, and ‘Now I can sleep at night’ I keep wanting to say, ‘If you want us to housesit, you really should be paying us’, but the Wine Merchant won’t let me.

We move in on the 1st and with that, are paying the first month’s rent and a deposit. After having gone round to look at the house for the 45th time yesterday, he comes up with:

Landlord: So I was thinking about a courtesy deposit.
Me: And? How did that work out for you?
Wine Merchant: Baglett!
Me: Well, I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what a courtesy deposit is.
LL: A sum of money before the actual deposit, just so I know you are really going to move in.
Me: We’ve been here 45 times. We’ve measured for curtains, I lay on the bed and you had to stop me from making dinner, how more certain can you be?
LL: Just a small amount of money, nothing big.
Me: Would you like my first born as well?
WM: BAGLETT! Yes, we will give you a courtesy deposit.
Me: Would you like a blood donation or some DNA with that?

We’ve signed a year lease but if I have to go through this every time I may just move straight into a retirement home and safe myself the hassle.

So the girls and I went in search of Valentine's festivities this Saturday. I got completely over excited and decided I was going to knock Cupid off his socks with my matchmaking skills. Through the crowd I spotted a man who looked like he was the type to help Grannies across the road, would help you with your tax returns and offer to look up your nose for bogeys and still find you sexy. He was with a crowd of similar-looking guys (the blue shirt brigade – what’s with you guys?) and this boded well for back up. I made eye contact, looked away, made eye contact again and made a huge show of hugging everyone to show him who my friends were.

Single Sidekick: What are you doing?!
Me: I’m hugging you!
SS: Don't.
Me: Well it’s either that or point at you repeatedly.
SS: Sigh. Where's the guy?
ME: There.
SS: He’s hot.
Me: Aaaand he helps Grannies across the road.
SS: How do you know?
Me: I just know.

I couldn’t have been more bloody wrong. There I am, leaning over the bar, trying to convince the barman that I have an account when I get a slap on my bum. My favourite thing.

Idiot: I saw you checking me out.

Oh crises. I left the barman in mid ‘ma’am you have no tequila account here’ and turned to the man who was clearly Danny in this scenario and the T-birds were behind him.

Me: No. I wasn’t ‘checking you out’
Guy: Yes you were. You kept staring at me.
Me: I’m drunk, I could stare at a pillar for ten minutes and find it entertaining.
Guy: Oh please, you want me.
Me: I want you? I want you to pay my bar bill.
Guy: I’m leaving.
Me: Is that your full name or do you have a middle name too?
Guy: You want my number?
Me: You want my bill?

With that the T-birds left and I rejoined the Single Sidekick and the Cool One who seemed to have not needed my help in any way shape or form as both were chatting to very nice looking guys. When I heard the Single Sidekick say ‘I luuuuufffff youuuu’ to a complete stranger, I thought ‘Now that’s what Valentine’s Day is all about – telling random hot men you love them and wrapping your feather boa around their neck while you fall about laughing. Cupid was clearly hammered on Saturday.

So it’s Valentine’s Day this weekend. I worked that out one when I had drinks with The Housemate, The Cool One and The Single Sidekick last night and The Cool One was threatening to find Cupid and stick the arrow in his head. After bitching about couples for an hour (I can choose when I want to be in a relationship and when I want to be single, it seemed safer for me to be single last night.) we realised the stupid day was unavoidable and we needed to do something.

We were discussing exactly what that something should be when the Cool One suggested a singles party. The Housemate said she would rather stick her head in a concrete mixer and The Single Sidekick said she would rather hug a live electricity conductor. So we’ve decided to watch the rugby on Saturday in a bar full of testosterone-filled men, then move on to wherever the hottest guy takes us.

Sunday I will be spending with the Wine Merchant while he nurses my hangover for me and I’m hoping the only present he gets me is a box full of myprodol.

Have a good weekend people!

I met a guy yesterday who was a combination of Orlando Bloom and some sort of man God. I still have no idea what his name is and I’m not sure if I will ever see him again. For my health and my speaking ability, I actually hope I don’t.

Flirting is pretty much at the top of my short talent list but I enjoy it and I like to think that I’m pretty good. I’m not saying men have swooned but I’ve made a few of them blush a pale shade of happiness. I was going to give this BloomGod some of my best work.

BG: Hey I’m BloomGod.
Me: Hee hee hee
BG: What’s your name?
Me: Hee hee hee
BG: Are you ok?
Me: Hee hee hee
BG: Um, what are you looking at?

I couldn’t make eye contact with this man. I knew that if I looked into those eyes, mysterious spells would be cast on me and I would be ruined for life. I also couldn’t stop fiddling with my hair. What he saw before him was a woman with a giggling problem, staring at the floor, twirling her hair around her finger like a baton. I needed to take control of the situation and redeem myself.

BG: So what do you do for a living?
Me: Um, I, like write. And stuff.
BG: English?
Me: Hee hee hee
BG: It’s just that I thought you might speak another language since you don’t seem to be understanding me.

It was clear he now thought I was out with the fairies and to prove that I wasn’t I thought it was best to show him some of my work rather than continue the giggling game. While whipping out my folder I dropped my pen which he instantly went to retrieve. The man was now on one knee in front of me. My brain pretty much exploded and it took every sense of my being not to say ‘yes!’ to what I translated as a marriage proposal.

BG: Here you go. Listen I have to go, but stay in touch. (Now speaking slowly and loudly) that means I WILL SEE YOU SOON.
Me: Hee hee hee

Sweet lord. How I ever got a guy in my life is beyond me.

The Wine Merchant and I have finally found a house large enough that when we fight I don’t have to see him. Now comes the fun part of organising to have all my crap sent up to Jo’burg, including the cats. My Dad has never hid the fact that he is unimpressed with the number of animals I’ve made them look after, so it came as no surprise to me when I told him I was moving them to Jo’burg that he would pretty much be ecstatic.

Me: Hi Dad. I’m moving the cats up.
Dad: Those food to shit converters? I’m devastated.
Me: I was wondering if you could fly them up?
Dad: I’ll buy a plane!
Me: No, on your next trip to Jo’burg.
Dad: Sure! How many of them do you want? We’ve got five.
Me: Let’s start with two and we’ll work our way from there
Dad: I’ll throw in a dog
Me: Dad just my two cats is fine. When are you coming up again?
Dad: Since it’s a celebration, I’ll come tomorrow!
Me: Next month Dad, next month would suit me. I’m sending an article on how to prepare them for the move.
Dad: No need. I’ve just told them. Consider them prepared. You know what they just said?
Me: What?
Dad: Meeeow. My boet.

So as I was debating to have toast or toast with an egg for dinner, I got a call from who I assumed to be the angel I had been looking for all my life.

Angel: Baglett, do you feel like reviewing restaurants for us?
Me: From a distance?
Angel: Um no. You have to go inside.
Me: And bring food from home?
Angel. No, you have to eat their food.
Me: How much do I pay them?
Angel: You don’t.
Me: Mom? Is this you? Stop it.
Angel: Baglett, it’s Food 24 here. We’re being serious.

With that I did a little click of my heels and went for a run. With the amount of food I plan to be eating, it’s best to start in the negative.

http://www.food24.com/Content/News-and-Guides/Features/3247/19bf7aea4e574ea4b0e0c23d3821085d/04-02-2010-12-22/Cheap_and_earful

I have never been happier to see Friday. I may bathe myself in vodka this evening. The Wine Merchant is heading off to the Top Gear show (I’ll break up with him later), The Single Sidekick is off to Cape Town and the rest of the boys are going to some belly dancing restaurant – Don Juan and The Australian – the Grand is not a belly dancing restaurant, no matter how much you try to convince people.

The Housemate and I are going to spend our evening happily sipping on G and T’s and reminiscing about the good old days when we had full access to our father’s credit cards. There will however not be another performance of last Friday’s Operation MacGyver. I’ve only just got back the feeling in my left leg.

After having drunk the bar dry of petrone, I decided to leave the Wine Merchant and co squeaking their takkie on the D floor and got a cab home. After making the cabbie sit for twenty minutes through the McDonalds drive through with the promise of a Big Mac for his trouble, he dropped me at home and off he went into the darkness. It was only when I tried to open my front door with my mascara that I realised I didn’t have any keys. Off I went to the security guard and explained my conundrum.

Me: I’ve got a conningdumb. Have you seen my keys?
Guard: No Baglett, that Wine Merchant, where is he?
Me: Pfffft. He’s dancing with my keys isn’t he!? Can I borrow yours?
Guard: I don’t have keys to your apartment.
Me: You totally should. You know, you and I need to get together more. We never just taaaaalk anymore.
Guard: Do you need some help getting off the floor?
Me: No, but I’m going to have to have to break into my own place. So no arresty arresty.

Twenty minutes later, I had climbed along the wall, jumped into the neighbour’s garden, hoisted myself up and across her gate and frog leaped onto my balcony. With a massive gash in my leg and the signs of bruises to come, I pushed myself through the gap in the window meant for the cat, with half my body dangling forward and my legs pushing against the wall behind me. I was in mid ‘YOU CAN DOOO IT’ when I lifted my head to see the Wine Merchant coming through the front door.

Wine Merchant: What are you doing?
Me: Nothing.
WM: That's what I thought.

I was actually going to tell you about something else but as I was buying my daily coke light, my eyes rested on these bad boys. And I thought, brilliant! I can just picture the huge creative team behind this product, sitting at their boardroom table till stupid o'clock trying to figure out what to call this chocolate sensation. One genius piped up 'Balls!' Bwwwwwwwaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaa


'Would you like one of my balls?''Why, yes I would. They look delicious!''Have another one!''But you've only got one left!''That's ok I saved my last ball for you.''Yum, it tastes so good.''I thought you would like my balls.''I DO like your balls!
Bwwwwaaaaahhhhaaaaa. Balls. The funniest word.
Am I overtired? Yes, I am.

Because my credit card is having an affair with the ATM, I wasn't able to bless One Time airlines with my presence this month and therefore wasn't able to pick up a copy of their AbouTime magazine. But someone who was lucky enough to park their bot on a seat picked this little beauty up for me, and would you believe it, they've printed Baglett again. Little flying legends.

For those also financially stuck to their city, check it out below

http://www.aboutime.co.za/index.php/foreign-feat/

So while you were recovering from your Met hangover I was house-hunting with The Wine Merchant. If there is one sure way to test a relationship, house-hunt with your partner.

Wine Merchant: I like this place
Me: Are you kidding me? It looks like a brick factory vomited all over it.
WM: This is the fifth place you've hated. What have you liked?
Me: I liked that one we saw before this one...
WM: That was a retirement village!
Me: Yes, but the finishes were incredible. Oooh let's try this place!
WM: Baglett, the asking price is 5 million.
Me: Your point?
WM: We can't afford it.
Me: Well I can't. Let's call it an early Christmas present.
WM: Sorry Mrs Estate Agent, my girlfriend has illusions of grandeur.
Me: I would hardly call them illusions. More expectations really...
Me: So we would like to put in an offer please...
WM: Baglett, we are not putting in an offer!
Me: Excuse the Wine Merchant, he wants to live in a cardboard box. Here's my card, if you can phone me when he's not around, we can get more done.

I was whisked away from my dream home and driven down a road where meteors had clearly landed two years ago but no one had bothered to fix the road up.

WM: Right, this is the next one on the list.
Me: It's opposite a correctional facility Wine Merchant!
WM: What? And Steenberg Estate in Cape Town isn't!?
Me: I would hardly call this place Steenberg. It looks like the place they send the prisoners to be rehabilitated back into society.
WM: Well, at least it's cheap.
Me: And so are you. Does it come with our very own parole officer?

We eventually called it quits and over a bottle of wine decided it would be much safer for both us if I went on the internet, chose my houses and then took him to the ones I really, really felt passionate about. So I've set up an appointment to see the R5 million one again. I reckon if he sees it again, he'll sign on the spot.