Send Xanex
Okay, so we've done almost everything we can do to our house to get it ready for sale. Everything is spiffed and shiny (with a few exceptions that will no doubt come together between now and Wednesday when we list the house with a Realtor.)
Except, um, I don't know how to LIVE here without completely losing my mind every time someone uses a pot or pan or rumples a bed or, god for-freaking-bid, takes out a game and leaves it in the middle of the living room floor where it is the first thing a propective buyer will see--DAMN IT--and so what if we have no prospective buyers yet when it's just a matter of DAYS--DAYS, I tell you--until we do and we need to get in the habit of staging this freaking house right NOW!
Oh.
Ahem.
Um, hi there.
As I was saying, I seem to be experiencing a small amount of anxiety.
And this, my friends, is really the answer to how all those Metropolitan Home types have spotless many-shades-of white houses.
No one lives there.
The truth is, you wanna sell your house? You should move the hell out so that when, hypothetically speaking, the realtor turns up her nose at the Love candle your daughter brought home for steak night and suggests that you dispose of it, you don't have to fight the urge to tell her exactly where she should put it.
(That truly really was just hypothetical. Our Realtor hasn't said anything about the Love Candle at all, and it has nothing to do with the look in my eyes. I feel the need to have these mental (and I mean that in every sense of the word) imaginary confrontations with people because I am a youngest child in that way. We youngest kids are always on the look-out for those who would cast aspersions on our grown-uptitude.)
Um.
So, anyway, I guess my point is that I don't know how to both LIVE here with my family and to look like no one of any consequence lives here so that some unimaginative prospective buyer can picture his or herself living here. Does that make sense? (The sentence, I mean. I have no illusions about how much sense the sentiment makes...)
Except, um, I don't know how to LIVE here without completely losing my mind every time someone uses a pot or pan or rumples a bed or, god for-freaking-bid, takes out a game and leaves it in the middle of the living room floor where it is the first thing a propective buyer will see--DAMN IT--and so what if we have no prospective buyers yet when it's just a matter of DAYS--DAYS, I tell you--until we do and we need to get in the habit of staging this freaking house right NOW!
Oh.
Ahem.
Um, hi there.
As I was saying, I seem to be experiencing a small amount of anxiety.
And this, my friends, is really the answer to how all those Metropolitan Home types have spotless many-shades-of white houses.
No one lives there.
The truth is, you wanna sell your house? You should move the hell out so that when, hypothetically speaking, the realtor turns up her nose at the Love candle your daughter brought home for steak night and suggests that you dispose of it, you don't have to fight the urge to tell her exactly where she should put it.
(That truly really was just hypothetical. Our Realtor hasn't said anything about the Love Candle at all, and it has nothing to do with the look in my eyes. I feel the need to have these mental (and I mean that in every sense of the word) imaginary confrontations with people because I am a youngest child in that way. We youngest kids are always on the look-out for those who would cast aspersions on our grown-uptitude.)
Um.
So, anyway, I guess my point is that I don't know how to both LIVE here with my family and to look like no one of any consequence lives here so that some unimaginative prospective buyer can picture his or herself living here. Does that make sense? (The sentence, I mean. I have no illusions about how much sense the sentiment makes...)
Comments
On the other hand, I have a friend with 7 kids under 12 (including a newborn baby) who managed to sell her small-ish house with everyone in it. I don't know how.
Breathe my friend! Here's what helped us...Get a plastic tote bin. When the realtor called to make an appointment or tell us that in 30 minutes someone was going to be showing the house, I would make a mad dash around the house with the tote, putting everything in it that was out of place, (toys, mail, etc) and then take it to my car with me when I left. Also, people usually do not look inside your dishwasher or washing machine - yes, I hid stuff there once or twice on my way out the door! From the pictures you have done an amazing job! Now breathe! ~Michelle
I am glad I never need to move again until the kids are out of the house.
I love Michelle's suggestions.
I don't envy you at all. I'll cross my fingers for a quick sale so you can go back to normal life, whatever that may be.
We'll keep our fingers crossed.
I don't know how anyone does anything with seven kids.
Our house was unoccupied when we bought it and there was a weirdness about that. It was missing that special something that makes a home. I hope that the buyers that fall in love with your house overlook the imperfections of being occupied and see them for the way it makes your home special. Maybe they'll see the Love Candle as a glimpse into the joy they'll have with their own children as they grow up with your address.
And only delusional people without children or pets can possibly believe that houses remain spotless all the time.