Maybe it was the beautiful weather that brought out the inebriated hillbillies when we went east. We saw a townhome in Burbank/Toluca Lake. The listing agent hadn't warned us about the obnoxious security alarm. Or the obnoxious drunk neighbor who accosted us about the alarm noise and repeatedly exclaimed, "Nancy doesn't know a thing about this!" Um, who is Nancy?
But anyway, on to a sweet house on Chandler in Burbank. Again, no address here because my clients are also considering making an offer on this one.
Next, we saw 316 Ontario in Burbank. It features a teeny knotty-pine kitchen that's too small for a full-size refrigerator, and a place for a washer/dryer in the dining room. The home was billed as having two guest rooms, which is accurate if you count a partitioned garage with gold pile carpet. We were watched by two hillbillies from the porch across the street. (Would those be Bur-billies?) One staggered towards us, but I locked up and we scampered back to the car before he could intercept us.
Our final interaction with drunks was at a gorgeous condo in an older building in west Burbank. At least, it looks gorgeous in the pictures -- we couldn't tell much as the electricity is off. We could tell that it is huge and that the kitchen has been totally redone. We could also tell that we didn't want to live there when we were button-holed by the final drunk neighbor of the day, who demanded to know what we were doing there, and if the condo board had approved us. No, and I don't think they'd approve of you either, mister.
In spite of the "local color," it was a fun and productive day for my clients.
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