Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Eating Crow

So, I’m holding open a house on one of those all-too-rare sunny hot San Francisco Sundays. The house has a gorgeous garden. All the favorite Realtors’ adjectives apply: incredible, amazing, unparalleled, stunning, spectacular, unrivaled, and so on.

There are Meyer lemons and vining roses. There are roses and lavender. There are trees shimmering in the soft, warm breeze. And in the center is a bird bath where tiny yellow songbirds are splashing joyfully. Mother Nature herself is helping to stage this beautiful home!

Into this urban idyll flaps a gianormous black crow with — get this — a whole cupcake in its beak, purloined from a kid birthday two fences over. And BAM! He (or she) bombs it right into the birdbath. Tweeties scatter. The cupcake disintegrates upon impact, forming a scummy soup with a ridged wrapper floating on top.

So much for Staging by Mother Nature. And guess who gets to clean it up?

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