I was here when The Lying Real Estate Lady first fibbed to The Biped – back when he asked her why the place didn’t have air-conditioning.
“Air conditioning?” she said. Who needs air-conditioning?” This is “San Francisco! No one has air-conditioning!”
I remember The Biped cocked his head like an Irish Setter and said, “Really? No one has air-conditioning in San Francisco? No one at all?”
“Of course, not” she said, “you don’t need it! The breeze comes off the Bay and keeps everything deliciously cool! Besides – it never gets warmer than 72 degrees!”
“I’m pretty sure it gets warmer than 72 degrees,” said The Biped.
“Nonsense!” said The Lying Real Estate Lady. And even if it does…it still feels like 72 degrees, thanks to that delicious cool breeze that’s always blowing!”
Today – as the flag hangs limp from it’s white-hot pole, and the birds tumble like lawn darts from their airless perches, and the cat next door hisses in futile desperation at the star going supernova some 93 million miles away – it occurs to me that the only thing blowing around here is the hot air that flies from the treacherous mouth of The Lying Real-Estate Lady.
Assuming of course, she hasn’t already gone up in a poof of spontaneous human combustion – which, on this particular day, would absolutely serve her right.
Freddy