So you may ask, how is that cool ranch coming? Are you going to buy it for the Team? That's gonna be swell.
Well, we got countered today by the estate of the seller. Being countered is kind of like being shot. Or maimed. Or stabbed.
They countered us at $200,000 over our nice, neat offer of the asking price. Yep, 200,000 clams. Smackeroos. Big ones. 200 K.
Isn't that a lot you might ask? Why yes, I would reply. Indeed it is.
But where else will the Team run around? Where are all the horses going to live? Wasn't this your dream house/ranch/field? You might ask.
Yep.
Do you have 200,000 extra bones, dollars, pesos, euros, around?
Um, nope.
Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
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