For many years, I’ve had the idea that one day I would write a book. My dad is a professional author – check out his latest book about psychic Annette Martin, Gift of the White Light. I plan to write a book that’s a cross between Catcher in the Rye and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The project is some ways away from getting off the ground (decades, maybe) but I already have the first sentence picked out. It’s catchy. Ready? Here goes.
It was looking grim.
Did it grab you? I know, you’re hooked. Speaking of looking grim, here are some signs of the apocalypse.
A near record number of homeowners likely won’t pay property taxes by the April 10 deadline, another sign of just how tight things have become.
Yep yep. The chickens are making themselves right at home, roosting all over the darn place. It’s no sweat not to pay your property tax. Santa Cruz county won’t auction off your home for like five years, so what’s the rush? The interest rate is only 10%, and what are you paying to CapitalOne? Only thing is, I hear that you if you want to work out a deed in lieu of foreclosure with your lender, they won’t work with you if you have unpaid property tax. So there you go, keep them property taxes paid, people!
So that’s one sign. There are others. It seems that one of the greatest occupations ever is under attack here in the Golden State. Yes, of course, I’m talking about real estate agents. There has been a precipitous drop of new blood coming into a industry that is clearly hemorrhaging:
Just 1,324 people took the real estate salesperson exam in January, down from 8,765 a year earlier and 14,397 two years ago, according to the Department of Real Estate.
There are other signs, too. But now I see we are fast approaching 9 AM here on the Left Coast and really I need to get cracking. It’s Monday morning, and despite the fact that the writing is clearly on the wall and the apocalypse is nigh, life goes on.