How not to sell your house
Mobile rings at 10 a.m. with a real estate agent asking if he can show the hacienda off between 3-4 p.m. Fine, no problem, I think. I was going to enjoy this gorgeous upstate California day, take a hike, play with the girls, but I could stay close, clean the house. Get the roomie up at a designated time, without ruining his day.
I told the guy to call when he was about five minutes out and I'd take the dogs and go for a walk.
I went to the library, I went to the grocery, I got cleaning supplies and flowers and a package of Toll House cookies to fill the house with warm, gooey goodness. I was even going to download and print a picture of St. Joseph and bury it in my front flower bed (hey, in a pinch, you do what you have to do).
I cleaned top to bottom (spring cleaning) and had my hands deep inside roomie's bathroom stool when he walked up and asked what was up.
"House showing, between 3 and 4," I said.
"I'll get out of your way."
I emptied the trash and recycling, swept the driveway, closed the garage door, let the girls out in the front yard and prepared to sweep and mop the floor.
In the CD changer, playing loud: Bash & Pop, Slim Dunlap, The Hold Steady, the Queen's mixtape and The Specials.
The kitchen chairs are up, the roomie is in the shower and I hear the girls start barking.
Real estate agent is pulling into the driveway and the girls completely have forgoten their training and mob the occupants as they emerge from the Chevy Tahoe.
I look at my watch. It's 1:38 p.m.
"We're a little early."
Fuck, you think?
"Uhh, my roommate is in the back bathroom getting ready for work. I was just getting ready to mop the floor. You caught me a little off-guard."
They troop into my house, a young couple with a boy of about 8 and playing on the stereo is Suburban Lawns "Janitor." Right at the point where singer Su Tissue is singing the chorus, "I'm a janitor, oh my genitals, I'm a janitor, oh my genitals, oh my genitals, I'm a janitor."
Needless to say, they stayed in the house for maybe five minutes.
"So much for first impressions," roomie said. "Especially with me trooping through the house from the shower."
Oh, well.
I'm headed out to a buddy's for National Corn Dog Day, then to the Queen's for my birthday party, where I'm going to try Absinthe (and hope I don't go skitzo).
I didn't really want to sell my house Saturday anyway.
I told the guy to call when he was about five minutes out and I'd take the dogs and go for a walk.
I went to the library, I went to the grocery, I got cleaning supplies and flowers and a package of Toll House cookies to fill the house with warm, gooey goodness. I was even going to download and print a picture of St. Joseph and bury it in my front flower bed (hey, in a pinch, you do what you have to do).
I cleaned top to bottom (spring cleaning) and had my hands deep inside roomie's bathroom stool when he walked up and asked what was up.
"House showing, between 3 and 4," I said.
"I'll get out of your way."
I emptied the trash and recycling, swept the driveway, closed the garage door, let the girls out in the front yard and prepared to sweep and mop the floor.
In the CD changer, playing loud: Bash & Pop, Slim Dunlap, The Hold Steady, the Queen's mixtape and The Specials.
The kitchen chairs are up, the roomie is in the shower and I hear the girls start barking.
Real estate agent is pulling into the driveway and the girls completely have forgoten their training and mob the occupants as they emerge from the Chevy Tahoe.
I look at my watch. It's 1:38 p.m.
"We're a little early."
Fuck, you think?
"Uhh, my roommate is in the back bathroom getting ready for work. I was just getting ready to mop the floor. You caught me a little off-guard."
They troop into my house, a young couple with a boy of about 8 and playing on the stereo is Suburban Lawns "Janitor." Right at the point where singer Su Tissue is singing the chorus, "I'm a janitor, oh my genitals, I'm a janitor, oh my genitals, oh my genitals, I'm a janitor."
Needless to say, they stayed in the house for maybe five minutes.
"So much for first impressions," roomie said. "Especially with me trooping through the house from the shower."
Oh, well.
I'm headed out to a buddy's for National Corn Dog Day, then to the Queen's for my birthday party, where I'm going to try Absinthe (and hope I don't go skitzo).
I didn't really want to sell my house Saturday anyway.
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