Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

We have an appointment this afternoon with a real estate agent. No, we’re not selling. Rather, the agent has a client who claims to be willing to pay ten thousand dollars a month for a home on water for June, July, and August of 2005.

My mouth gaped at the dollar figure, just as Earl’s had done when he first heard this offer. I mean, you could do a lot with thirty thousand dollars?

But the more I think about it, the more questions I have. Of course, ten thousand dollars covers far more than our mortgage. But for that amount of money, would the temporary residents expect us to pay all the utilities as well? Would they mow our acre of lawn? Would they eat the salmon left in our freezer? I suspect the answers are “Yes,” “No,” and “Quite possibly.”

What if they smoked or had pets? What if they were wild party people? What do we do with all the subscriptions and mail we receive each day? And my piano. Would I give that up for three months? Where would Earl and I live in the meantime? Most likely, we’d have to rent some other place, which cuts further into the profit.

The money certainly is enticing; otherwise, we wouldn’t have agreed to meet the real estate agent. But I’m not sure I’m willing to have people take over my home, read my books, use my computers, and generally know a lot about me through the home I have.

If it were you, what would you do?