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On House Hunting

If you have a baby, your entertainment options are limited. You can't really go to the movies.

You could *try* the movies; you could try, say, Richard Linklater's sloppy adaptation of "Where'd You Go, Bernadette." But your baby will revolt; your baby will know that the thing on-screen is *not* worth a ticket-holder's time. Your baby will poop halfway through--in a loud, obvious way--and the poop will seem to be a commentary on the story Linklater is halfheartedly telling.

There won't be a changing table in the men's room, so you and your spouse will improvise with the hard (mostly clean?) countertop surrounding the sinks.

You can take your infant to the Newark Museum--rich in history, oddly empty. But how many hours can you spend in the Newark Museum?

My advice--whether you're looking for a house or not--is to go house-hunting. Your baby will enjoy this. If it's just a charade, then make up a name for yourself and don't think twice.

Here's what I particularly like about house-hunting:

*It's possible to determine what is real and what is staged. The hardcover copy of "Oliver Twist" was added by the broker. The tattered paperback entitled "Human Sexuality"? That's real. The mousepad that features the rear-ends of four female cartoon-twenty-somethings, where the twenty-somethings are all leaning against a cartoon bar? Suddenly, you have entered another person's life! A real teenager! A ghost-teenager. Invaluable as a diversion.
*You sometimes get scraps of story. From the broker: "He lived here twenty years, then his wife died--suddenly--last fall." Suddenly! A tantalizing adverb. You and your spouse can spin minutes--minutes!--of daydreaming from that adverb.
*You can study the brokers. There are different kinds. There is the bare-bones broker, who will be a man. The broker who really cares will almost always be a woman. If there are free baked goods, if there is ambient music, if the sign-in involves a touch-screen rather than a memo pad from CVS? You're almost surely  working with a female broker. It's distressing and boring to listen to the broker-spiel--this is the downside of house-hunting--but, while faux-listening, you can consider the broker's outfit, the broker's choice of footwear, the level of false-jazziness in his or her voice. Better than another afternoon with "Schitt's Creek."

It's a thought, anyway. Happy hunting!
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