my realtor adventure, part iii.

I'll spare you the ugly phone dialogue. Suffice to say, my officemate is cowering under his desk, there's a crack in the body of my phone, I'm surrounded by shreds of torn up papers, and my realtor still believes we are friends. How can one woman be so resilient, you ask? Sheer, blind, bopped on the head stupidity. Box of hammers stupidity. I don't know what to do when someone weathers the storm of my anger with such empty-headed acceptance. And by offering to fix my heat, no less! I'd rather freeze.