Deirdre said that her step-cousin taught her that the heart song doesn’t lie, but…what if it does? What if the heart song was a lie all along, and people are just press-ganged into going along with it because it’s tradition? It’d be just like when it was 1952 and women were told that they couldn’t be reporters, because having children changes your brain and means you can only focus on child-rearing and home maintenance instead of facts and getting big scoops.
I might have gotten the urge to play a bit of a ditty, but that’s only because I had a tune in my head from…somewhere, I don’t know where, and I’d just been watching a fascinating documentary on wasps.
But I just love homes, and I love buyers advocates. Melbourne firms are exclusive, sure, but that just makes it even more enticing for me. Breaking into the hot-shot world of buyers advocacy, hunting around for high-end homes, living LIFE. On the EDGE!
I suppose I can use my mastery of the property market to purchase suitable premises for my new wasp farm, but I don’t know if my heart will really be in it. My heart is supposedly what got me into this in the first place. And what if it turns out that, once you’ve sung the heart song, there’s no going back after all? It’s a binding contract and you’ll never be happy doing anything else?? I don’t know if I can live with that.
Unless…I wrote it down. All the lyrics to the song, carelessly left on a bench somewhere for someone to pick up. They’ll steal my identity, my wasp farmer burdens will be lifted, and I can finally get round to becoming the best property advocate Melbourne has ever seen, perhaps with an extra few years of training and an extensive internship at one of the best property advocate firms around I can do it. I can defy the heart song. Who cares about a stupid song, anyway??