Does DH have a bachelor pad?
My mobile phone number, it seems has been sold. And I know who the culprit must be. It’s the property developer from whom we bought our house. I know this because I keep getting calls from real estate agents who want to sell my house, and they know the size, type and location of it.
“We have a genuine buyer with (genuine, presumably) cash,” they tell me, wetting their pants with excitement at the potential commission.
“All well and good,” I reply, “but I have a genuine family that needs a genuine roof over its head and I bought the house because I love it. No, I am not selling.”
“But we could get you X million,” they say. Generally, at that point, I hang up.
Anyway, this common scene took a turn for the worse the other day, when I took a call from an estate agent keen to talk to my husband.
“He’s not on this number,” I said. “But would you like to talk to me? I’m his wife?”
“Sure,” said the estate agent. “We just wanted to know if your husband would like to sell his property in The Springs? We have a ready buyer.”
DH doesn’t have a property in The Springs. He doesn’t have time to own a property in The Springs!
But, can you imagine if he did, and I wasn’t supposed to know about it? I wouldn’t want to be that estate agent when his boss got a call from our lawyer.