Annapolis, MD
With the boat on the market, we have to be ready to show it on short notice, staged, clean, perfect. This week, with guests onboard, I'm thinking that's going to be even more challenging than usual.
This perpetual preparedness got me feeling all deja vu-ish, remembering back to 2009 when we had our house on the market and were playing this same staging game. I fished up this blog post from my old, landbound blog, ploddingTOparadise, about getting 'the call' to show the house.
Guess I'll be reenacting this a few times ...
FLASHBACK:Thursday, January 22, 2009
Our realtor called this morning to ask if another realtor could "preview" our house for a client.
"Of course," I said. "When?"
"In 10 minutes."
"Oh, shit," I said (paraphrased).
There are times in your life when you realize how far the apple really does fall from the tree. I used to call my mother Hurricane Marge for the way she would spin through a room cleaning, fluffing, dusting, leaving a sparkling, photo-shoot-ready room in her wake. Okay, technically that's more like a reverse hurricane creating order from chaos. If George Bush had only sent mom in after Hurricane Katrina, she might have secured a better place for him in history.
Once my mom found her longtime friend Dene, a friend who is more "terrestrial" in her housekeeping, on her knees peering under the bed in the guest room.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked.
Dene replied seriously, "Trying to find where the heck you keep the dirt."
That apple must have fallen somewhere else, because I did not inherit this trait. I leave a wake behind me that consists more of rumpled couches, fingerprints and dirty dishes and less of sparkle and shine. I've tried to convince my mother that low standards are much easier to maintain.
With the boat on the market, we have to be ready to show it on short notice, staged, clean, perfect. This week, with guests onboard, I'm thinking that's going to be even more challenging than usual.
This perpetual preparedness got me feeling all deja vu-ish, remembering back to 2009 when we had our house on the market and were playing this same staging game. I fished up this blog post from my old, landbound blog, ploddingTOparadise, about getting 'the call' to show the house.
Guess I'll be reenacting this a few times ...
FLASHBACK:Thursday, January 22, 2009
10 WHAT!!?!?
Our realtor called this morning to ask if another realtor could "preview" our house for a client.
"Of course," I said. "When?"
"In 10 minutes."
"Oh, shit," I said (paraphrased).
There are times in your life when you realize how far the apple really does fall from the tree. I used to call my mother Hurricane Marge for the way she would spin through a room cleaning, fluffing, dusting, leaving a sparkling, photo-shoot-ready room in her wake. Okay, technically that's more like a reverse hurricane creating order from chaos. If George Bush had only sent mom in after Hurricane Katrina, she might have secured a better place for him in history.
Once my mom found her longtime friend Dene, a friend who is more "terrestrial" in her housekeeping, on her knees peering under the bed in the guest room.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked.
Dene replied seriously, "Trying to find where the heck you keep the dirt."
That apple must have fallen somewhere else, because I did not inherit this trait. I leave a wake behind me that consists more of rumpled couches, fingerprints and dirty dishes and less of sparkle and shine. I've tried to convince my mother that low standards are much easier to maintain.
READ MORE ...
I would like to apologize again . . .
ReplyDeleteLOLOLOL! Made for a great post, eh? The 'good' old days.
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