The sofa, furious, stormed off, taking the cushions with it.

The empty pillowcases were left to fend for themselves in the corner.

Not even trying.

It's in my budget... yet, I resist.

So... calm.

There's just no pleasing me. I complain if there's too much furniture; I complain if the house is an empty void.

Included: oven, plants, fridge, plants, water cooler, plants

The furniture is gone, but the plants remain. As do the dog food bowls. The house has a sort of The World Without Us air about it... (It's mine for just half a million bucks -- which goes well with the half a year it's been listed for.)

It's as if I already lived there.

From this photo, we learn that the house has a floor. And some walls.

So that's what chairs look like.

What is this supposed to tell me -- a potential buyer -- about the house? That it has walls?

Great... tracts of land.

Ah, the glory.

Stagers? Pshaw.

It does feel like home, it's true. (They're asking $875,000, by the way.)

It's all about finding the right house for us

This house would be great for us, because we look like this:


...but unfortunately my son has an eraser for a head, so we'll keep looking.

The "restaurant in Havana" look is a big selling point.

Or maybe it's a really cheerful morgue? From here.

But is there RV parking?

If this is a photo they thought looked good, what could the bad ones have looked like? From here.

UPDATE: They removed this photo! Spoilsports. Sensible spoilsports.

The eyes... they follow me around the room...

Five bucks says it's a painting of the real estate agent. From here.