Where are my shoes? I

Where are my shoes? I am not sure what this story says about my mental state of mind as I sink deeper into my 50s. As some of you know, I like to go to open houses as I am in a constant state of home buying and always seeking market insight. This past Sunday, I was cruising around the Berkeley Hills and went into an open house that had one of those dreadful requirements that you remove your shoes and wear little blue booties, like surgeons and perverts sport. I chose to go forward in my socks -- booty-less. I hated the house and could not wait to get out from under the grip of the clingy Realtor who was manning the house. I jumped in the car and drove to another open house a few miles away, only to discover that I had left my shoes in the other open home. So, I took the home tour without my shoes, even though there was no shoe-less requirement in this house, which was much nicer and which I bought. -- Bradley Inman

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