We had maintained a high degree of hope. This is because an unflagging optimism is the essential hallmark of our characters. And also because the recent residencies of both the plumber and the electrician had led us into an, as it turns out, unreasonably rosy view. But the real estate agent, who came for the first time today, did not beat around the bush.

We have damp.

Not fatal damp. Not damp that cannot be ameliorated. But damp nonetheless.

How is it possible, we ask ourselves, living as we do in a freaking desert, that we have damp? Wildfires rage around us. The backyard shrubbery withers in the relentless sun. My own personal skin is so dry that I am beginning to look like beef jerky (well, I'm pretty pale, so I guess chicken jerky.) But my house! My house has moisture to spare! My lips are cracked, the skin of my heels is like hooves. My hair is as dry as straw. But my basement is moist and glossy.

The Clairol Company called. They want the basement to star in a new series of conditioner advertisements where there will be several slo-mo shots of it to show how silky and moisture-rich it is. I asked if we would shoot on location or if the house would have to travel to Hollywood. They are checking with the producers and will call us back. We hope the residuals will cover the costs of repairing the damp. Fingers crossed!