Such an exciting time ahead of me. Okay, maybe a tad stressful as well but I’d rather focus on the good parts, if you know what I mean. A perfect time to analyze my “stuff” and see what really means something to me and must stay and what can be let go. Or, a time where everything gets shoved in boxes to be dealt with later! How about a mix of both… that way I won’t spend too much time with the preparations.
The agent has been met, the price established and, before the ‘For Sale’ sign can be hammered into the newly exposed, spring-stink grass, the ‘home stager” must be met. I consider myself lucky that part of the commission I shall be paying to sell this behemoth includes the services of said stager. If not, I had contemplated, maybe, in investing in the services of one. Because, you know, a different set of eyes and all that.
Well damn. The doorbell rings and there stands Nathalie, standing at five foot-nothing, wearing jeans and boots – “no, no, please”, I insist, “keep them on. I didn’t wash the floor and I have a dog. Would much rather you not end up with slippers for socks.” She goes back to her car – very nice car, so business must be good – and gets her sneakers. Hands me her coat and with a handshake that would make a 6’2″ man proud got down to business.
Not a stroll around the house to see what’s to be dealt with, first, oh no. Immediately, she tells me to get a pad and pen so I can take notes. Notes? I ain’t got time to take notes! My 5’9″ legs are practically having trouble keeping up with her! She has walked into the dining room, after having passed through the living room. Immediatelly told me to take down the two paintings (sorry, Richard, apparently Mick and I have no taste so your lovely works of art don’t belong there). She made me take one from the dining room to placed in the living room. Told me to remove the hooks and nails we were not using and kept on going. And so it went. “Remove this, store that. Do you really need to keep that there? Try to find an extension cord so you can move your water fountain. Do you really need to plug it in? Seriously room-temp water is better for you. OK. Remove all pictures of your family. OK.. Take that picture and put it here. Don’t forget to remove the nails.” Takes notes? I think not.
“Yes. OK. That’s good. No, this will NOT do. I really don’t like those curtains. Do you really need them?”
“Well, yes, I do, when the sun shines, I can’t see my computer screen.”
“Well, speaking of that. Can you get rid of that other desk and move this one over there? Can we move some of this stuff downstairs? It is so important to have access to the windows. They must be free of stuff. No? Then remove this. And put this over there.”
Fuck no! Jesus… I am officially spinning.
“Let’s go upstairs, shall we? Ok. Let’s move this bureau and bring that plant over here.” OK… this one, I gotta admit, I really like. “And make sure you remove all that stuff from your nightstands. And get a lamp for that one. It’s too dark. Move that picture over to centre it. Why is it like that? And make sure you clean up that bookcase.”
“Since I sold my son’s bed, I figured we should move his desk into the guest bedroom and bring that bed in here. What do you think?”
“Yes, good idea.”
Woot! I had a good idea….
And then we enter the eldest’s room. “Ummm…”
“Don’t worry. He knows all the stuff has to come down from the walls. And he has to clean up the space. It will be done.”
“Does he really need that desk?”
“I can’t say. Will work on him for that one.”
Let’s go down into the basement, shall we?”
Huffing and puffing, I follow.
She comes down the stairs, looks at the new vinyl flooring on the one side. “Before you even think of it. No. That was a bitch to remove. We are NOT removing this side. I had it cleaned. I know it still looks ‘meh’ but it will remain. By the way, I figure we should bring this couch back over and that table.”
“You don’t want to bring the TV back here?”
“No. I don’t trust the kids to make another mess.”
She looks at me disapprovingly. “I sill think….”
“No.”
“OK. But still, remove those posters and maybe move that one over there.”
“OK. I still find it odd that people want to see a house that appears totally unlived in. That there isn’t a family here. To me, it makes no sense that there wouldn’t be at lease one family picture.”
“Statistics have shown that, that’s what works. So, Madame, my work here is done. Good luck on the sale of your house.”
Another crushing handshake and she is gone.
Whew! I sid down and try to get my bearings. I am now tripping over my antique chairs that I bought to go with my antique table that I must now hide. I am supposed to make my kitchen look like I never use it. I must store all my artwork that was not considered “fitting” and box all family pictures, no matter how cute.
I’m hoping, that with all this work, my house will be attractive to potential buyers. Till then, I’m to roll up my sleeves and do what needs to be done. There is some selling, re-organizing, moving, shifting, clearing, sorting, schlepping… I’m exhausted just thinking about it!
A Dalectable Life 