I’m in the middle of moving, which means that besides all the packing and sorting that comes with it, I also got to learn a little more about the Swedish rules and usual procedures for selling property. Something I found very strange was the fact that one usually books a couple of time slots for showing the property, but one is not really supposed to be there (in Mexico the owners tend to show it themselves, especially if they still live in it).
The agent said to hide or take the valuables with us, just to be safe. So, following his instructions, I set out to pick out and hide my most treasured books. P saw me while I was picking them out.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Picking the books I will hide while showing the apartment.”
“Pam,” he laughed ”nobody goes to an open house with the intention of stealing obscure books, some of which they can’t even read” (only one was in English, all others were in Spanish or Portuguese. For the record, I can’t read Portuguese either).
But those books are valuable because they are irreplaceable.
One of them I got as a birthday present from my sister when I turned 9, and it has a lovely little note that she wrote on the flyleaf. The rest have messages from the author, my favorite author, whom I had the chance to meet 8 years ago at the International Book Fair in Guadalajara.
Of course it would have been weird if potential buyers went through the bookshelves, unlikely that they would decide to pick a souvenir, and even less probable that they would manage to pick the irreplaceable ones. But I wasn’t taking any chances.