| The Unofficial Guide to Selling Your House |
Week 1:
Change sheets every day to get rid of dog fur and leave an enticing freshly-washed scent. Carefully place fluffed pillows for maximum feeling of pillowy comfort.
Precisely line up and arrange all of the three billion books on your child's bookshelf according to height and book style.
Actually fold the toilet paper into nice little corners like they do at fancy hotels.
Carefully windex every picture frame, vase, lamp and every glass surface to clean away dog snot and sticky finger prints from an unnamed source that resemble yesterday's meal of chicken fingers and BBQ sauce.
Meticulously fold and strategically arrange clothes in the closet to give the illusion of a professional couple who cares about how they look.
Edit and remove unnecessary items from the linen closet, delicately hide fragrant Bounce sheets between perfectly folded linen and towels and line up all the shampoo and conditioner and personal hygiene stuff anal-retentive style.
Feel genuinely worried about random bird shit on your nicely landscaped sedum and shrub-lined walkway with freshly blooming tulips and crocuses.
Because your dog is shy and only shits in the backyard, do poop patrol every single day to ensure no one steps in a deal-breaking pile of shit.
Diligently file and put away all mail and bills in their respective folders in the filing cabinet.
Vacuum everyday, including both flights of stairs and under the sofa cushions.
Bake a batch of muffins before every showing to give an enticingly fresh smell of banana-infused yumminess.
Ensure all dishes are clean and washed and emptied from the dishwasher.
Buy easy to prepare meals that are healthy and smell-free.
Week 2:
Attempt to just sort of brush off as much yellow dog fur as possible from your black sheets. Throw pillows on bed.
Make sure all the books that your child likes to empty off his bookshelf and onto the floor are actually on the bookshelf.
Decide no one notices your attempt at making toilet paper look fancy.
Windex AROUND every picture frame, vase and lamp.
Leave laundry baskets of carefully folded clothing in a corner of the closet.
Fail to care about re-ordering the shampoo bottles after needing a new bottle for your shower and dump half-assed folded towels on their respective shelf.
Attempt to ignore the bird shit on your walkway because LOOK! Pretty purple crocuses! And almost ready to bloom tulips!
Consider how long 90 lbs worth of dog body can survive without food so he stops shitting like a cow.
Shove random papers and bills under the futon in the office.
Vacuum every other day, spot clean as needed.
Bake just ONE muffin before every showing.
Ensure all dishes are clean and washed but fail to empty the dishwasher.
Survive on frozen pizzas because you are too exhausted to cook after spending all your time cleaning so people could wander through your house all evening.
Week 3:
Leave dog fur on the bed and feel a sense of accomplishment for just making the goddam bed YET AGAIN. Most people like dogs anyway, right?
Haphazardly toss books back onto bookshelf and cease to care whether they are upright or upside down or right side up because at least the floor in your child's room is tidy, right?
Glance to make sure there is actually toilet paper on the roll.
Windex only stinky-fingered smudges and dog snot that the naked eye could only see from a mile away.
Leave laundry basket of dirty clothes in a corner of the closet.
Dude, it's a linen closet. And the effort to fold a fitted sheet into perfection is just, well, not worth the aggravation. That task should be left to the Martha Stewart's of the world. Proudly put your rolled up balls of black sheets on the shelf.
Birds shit. And sometimes on a walkway. It happens. Meh, whatev.
Skip a day of picking up dog shit from the backyward and hope it rains enough to wash the shit away.
Watch in dumbfounded amazement the rapid growth of unfiled papers continuing to hide under the office futon.
Vacuum? What is that? Also? Hide random things under the sofa and between the cushions.
Skip the muffins. Spray Febreeze instead.
Leave dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wait for a full load, you know, to save the planet.
Order take-out pizza because you are too exhausted to even shop for frozen pizza, let alone pre-heat the oven and then cringe at all the calories you consumed when you realize all you have to recycle later that week is a tower of pizza boxes.
Week 4:
Lose your mind and take up drinking as a viable coping strategy.Labels: From House to Home |
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I'm glad you still have a great sense of humour at this most stressful time!
Good Luck and i hope you get a sale soon,
l,
Amanda x
Lmao Karla I LOVE your blog, and posts like this make my day. I just moved for the eleventy billionth time so I feel your pain.
OMG. Too funny. I can so relate. We're trying to sell our home too. We're on Week 10 or so, so ours would read something like: "Go to AA meetings instead of holding open houses in order to recover from Week 4's drinking as a 'viable coping strategy.'"
We are selling too. I hide things in my dishwasher and oven.
I so relate to this.
Hee...heee....
I think it is good you have'nt yet slipped to using the dishwasher to hide things other than dishes...
When we sold I sat in the tailgate of our wagon with my kids and their plates of hot dinner as we had a showing!!!!
What is it with people and houses at dinner time???
Kids thought it great,By the three month mark I was nearly rocking in a corner!!!!
We sold though and got our asking!
i am SO GLAD i'm not selling. i would NOT want to do that again. been there. it's horrible. good luck!
Oh Goodness ~ it must be so hard keeping it all together!
I pray that for the sake of your sanity ~ your house sells soon!
Love and hugs Tab XXX
We had our house on the market over the Christmas holidays, which wasn't too bad as hardly anyone is house hunting over the month of December. But the day after Christmas the phone started ringing off the hook, unfortunately my husband had the week after Christmas off and was looking forward to sleeping in. Every morning the phone would ring at 8:30 a.m. with a realtor stating they would be there in ten minutes. Poor thing didn't get much of a vacation that year
Whew! I'm exhausted. And never selling my house. Ever.
That sounds exhausting.
Julia
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Amanda : April 17, 2009 
