Wednesday, December 14, 2016

propErtY princE

My friends jokingly call me a property prince. But I really don't earn enough off of that to be considered “worthy” of that title. Sure I’ve flipped a few dozen places, but I’m not into real money properties. The places are middle class stuff, plus it is the hobby that I have turned into a full time job. I guess in the beginning I may have bought into the whole “choose a job you love” stuff. I’ve learned that doesn’t really mean anything since then though.... A job’s a job, that’s all there is to it. You put in hard hours, looking forward to weekends and holidays to rest. Quit time feels great to everyone, regardless of the job.
I buy old, dilapidated houses, foreclosures, whatever has a good price. I spend my time and money restoring them before selling them for a small profit. This profit then almost immediately goes into buying, restoring and selling another house and so on. I earn enough to survive. Yet, with the long hours, the rising cost of supplies and hard labor my job sometimes doesn't really seem worth it. I know many others that have tried, and failed, to make it in this business.
So if not for the money, why do I do it then? For the pleasure of providing that customer with their dream home? Maybe I like seeing the joy on a young couple's faces? No, not really. If I’m going to be completely honest with you. There is really only one reason I do what I do.
I do it to observe, to study, to learn you could say.
I have multiple eyes, dozens of them. Hidden in walls, closets, cracks and corners. Not noticeable to the happy new families, couples, single, young, and old that buy my restored houses. Sure sometimes I see them turn around and look over their shoulder as if they expect to see someone watching them. I see them seemingly trying to shake off my eyes burrowing into their backs with a light shiver. I even see the little ones stare intently at the closet. As if they can sense my eyes hiding there. Kids are so observant. However, they never find the cameras, my eyes, and I continue to watch. I see them search through their home at night, double-checking the locked doors and dark corners before going to bed.
I observe them as they go about their lives. Every day I sit down after work, watching them as they cook, play, relax, study, shower, sleep and even make love. I watch their every move, the young and the old, as if watching a reality show. I just wish I had more hours to spend watching, but I need to restore more houses. I need more sales, more eyes. Now, I know you’re wondering what atrocities I do to these "poor people"... Don't worry, I only ever observe them, that's it. Or I haven't done anything yet anyway. I'm still just watching and waiting.
Waiting for the right one to appear in front of one of my many, many eyes.

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