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Browsing Tag: selling

With Apologies to Clement C. Moore

‘Twas the night before the inspection, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring–that better not be a mouse. The linens were folded, tucked in closets with care, In desperation because the buyer soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of their own rooms danced in their heads. And Dave in his sweatshirt, and I in my cap, Were just freaking out that our house wouldn’t pass. When down in the bathroom there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter. Away to the toilet I flew like a flash, Tore open the door and cursed with some sass. The water on the floor of the half-bath–oh, no! Gave the lustre of mid-day as it spilled all below When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a flood that came pouring out up to our ears. With a little old yelp, so helpless and quick, I knew in a moment we were in some deep s—. More rapid than eagles the old towels they came, And we mopped it, and shouted, and…

What We Wanted

We spiffied up the split-level and put it on the market last Tuesday.  We had five hectic days of showings, which went a little something like this: “Cian, get that air freshener OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” “Quinn, get off the couch. That one, too. I said, get off the couch. Just…QUINN. Just sit on rug, right there in the middle. Now, don’t move.” “Girls, get your shoes on. Yes, just stand on the mat by the door while I finish mopping. Yes, you can sit, as long as you stay by the mat. Yes, your shoes have to stay on it, too. Yes, both of them. Because I said so.” “Cian’s just going to have to sleep in the car. Again. I know, I know, he’s cranky.” “Cian, get that vacuum cord OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” “No, we can’t go to the library, because Luca is with us and we can’t leave him in the car. No, we can’t go to a restaurant, either. No, we can’t go to Starbucks. Because the…

Mucking the Stalls

On a fun note, David dropped Saoirse off at school today super early. We were feeling fairly proud of ourselves–we’ve been cutting it too close lately, leaving too late, hitting traffic on the way to school, and it wasn’t fair to her or her sister. So, early, they left. And then Dave was halfway to work when he got a call telling him that there wasn’t any school for kindergarten today, so could he please come back and pick up his daughter? Doh. We have squeezed two years of house prep into a week. So much paint. So much throwing out of stuff. So much stuff in bags to donate. So much STUFF. A photographer was sent today to take pictures of the rooms, and I had to ask her not to take photos of the laundry room, because that’s where I’d shoved the leftover paint cans and random pictures and the basket of laundry I hadn’t had a chance to fold because the dear Cian got up at five-dear-Lord-why-forty-five this morning. (On another note? Nothing, absolutely nothing gives me anxiety…