Adventures In Real Estate, 14910, in which Sarah looks for a house on the hill...

Mom and I were scanning the sales ads again, I'd been thinking that if I never find somewhere in Old Town (that doesn't like, lean sideways, or like, still have recently-released inmates living there because it is presently an unregulated halfway house with a dilapidated pink kitchen, I'd look on the Hill, because it's a beautiful part of town and one of the few that really feels like an old city neighborhood, not as beigey-concrete and pricey as dupont or as trashed as Columbia Heights. Transitional. Sorry. The real estate term for trashed is TRANSITIONAL. Or "authentic." Or "charming."

So we're looking at this one place that which is really beautiful on the outside, it's a nice yellow rowhouse with beautiful detailing not found in most recently-built homes, and I called the realtor about it. Apparently it needed like, some rehab, but it's right behind that nice strip of bars and good restaurants on Pennsylvania Avenue and everyone has a different definition of "some rehab."

I asked the realtor what that meant and he said "Oh, you'd have to do some renovations."
Me: "Does it uh, need to be gutted?"
Realtor: "Well, that would depend on your definion of 'gutted.' I suppose I'd leave the floors."

In our perusing, we come across this one in NE a few blocks from the Capitol, which IS renovated (ish. It turned out the renovations were pretty but badly done, so it's not exactly unlikely that they would fall out). It's in a gorgeous spot on the Hill, close to everything, all victorian rowhomes and cute restaurants with folks out and about raking leaves and whatnot. We meet the listing-agent-et-douchebag, who was, unfortunately, your typical Stuff-White-People-Like type, the gentrified urbanist, in soulful tweed jacket, who is positively convinced that those of us who live in Northern Virginia are dying a slow death from boredom and makes a point to tell us how he really feels.

Mind you, directly outside the house is about four cop cars, a bunch of guys in SWAT gear, and a helicopter flying overhead, circling.

My mother just looks at me and goes "Sarah? THERE IS A SWAT TEAM OUTSIDE THIS HOUSE."

I think I just smiled and merely said "Well, at least there IS a police presence and they haven't just given up on it."

I suppose we'll keep looking.