Thinking of moving to Maine? All smart people think about moving to Maine. It’s the “thinking” part that makes them smart, though. The moving to Maine part of the equation doesn’t usually ensue. But just in case you’ve grown envious of my semi-renovated unheated hovel at the end of civilization and sidewalks, here’s a selection of Great Moments in Maine Real Estate to get your juices defrosted and flowing.

But remember, we’re a staid bunch up here in the Pine Tree State, so no wagering, please.

In Maine, we march to a different drummer. We’re not all that interested in habits and mores from elsewhere in the (much) lower 48. People in Iowa might say, “The toilet paper unrolls over the top.” People in Florida might declaim, “The toilet paper unrolls better down and against the wall. In Maine, we like to avoid arguments and jam it on there sideways.

Our realtors are an iconoclastic bunch. Not like real estate agents anywhere else. I suspect that most Maine realtors flunked out of art school, and just needed a job, so they took up the single-family-30-year-fixed cudgels and started flailing away. But in their hearts, they will always be artistes! Here you see the results: I call it: Still Life With Abitibi. It’s an artfully arranged image, you must admit.

There are two possible scenarios in this photo. Either your dog really wants to get out, or the dates you bring home really want to get out. Either way, you really should touch up the paint before your next swipe right on Tinder.

I saw the coffee table at the foot of the bed, and immediately admonished myself to avoid making any jokes about getting plowed. I didn’t want to spoil the whole vibe. Why settle for barn door hardware on your closet doors, when you can have the whole barn in there? For some reason or another, this will be playing in my head for the rest of the day:

You must be wearing 15 pieces of flair to microwave a Hot Pocket and plop it on this table.

I didn’t quite know what to make of this one. I found it intriguing. The listing didn’t have enough information to form a solid opinion about the place. I decided to actually go there and see for myself. It was pretty hard to find the place. It was way out in the woods, and surprisingly, there was no trail of breadcrumbs or anything to point the way. After hours of fruitless searching, I finally stumbled into a sylvan clearing, and there it was. There was a petite real estate agent minding the door. She was a pretty little thing. She had dark hair, light brown eyes, bright red lips, and a lovely, if somewhat dated dress with puffy sleeves and a high white collar that framed her clear, unblemished face nicely. She wouldn’t let me in. She looked at her clipboard twice, and told me, “Sorry, but you’re not on the short list.”

[Update: Many thanks to Grandalekat for their generous contribution to our tip jar. It is much appreciated]