Now what?

Yesterday was my Open House.

After three weeks of frantic prep leading to the nerve wracking event, it was all over in two short hours

A last minute walkthrough before the appointed time was a little unnerving. The sterile kitchen was a field of sleek, empty countertops. My desk was so naked it refracted the sunshine and made me squint in the glare. The freshly planted geraniums in the planters startled me every time I saw their blazing color through the window.

As I surveyed my staged environment, I couldn’t help but wonder…“Who lives here?” It felt as though much of my personality had been stuffed into drawers along with the clutter.

Traffic for the event was good, not great. About twelve nice folks came through, and not one apparent psycho among them. It took me a while to get my rhythm. The first lookers I’m sure found me very stiff and uncomfortable. Then I relaxed into the flow and got into a laid back salesmanship role.

I think there were a few good prospects, friends of neighbors who were familiar with the area and loved the house. But I didn’t hear those magic words I had so fiercely anticipated….”I love it! I’ll take it!”

After pulling the open sign from the street and turning off all the lights, I fell on the bed in a weary heap (next to the stoner dog who was tranquilized for the event). Every waking hour of the past few weeks had been filled with purpose. There were chores, there were exacting schedules, there was a deadline to be met.

Now what?

As tired as I was, it was hard to just chill. My body and brain had been rewired to be constantly in motion. Being still was not a recent option.

So as my mind continued to whirl, I contemplated next steps. More advertising. More flyers. Spread the word. Keep the house clean. Hold a good thought.

I’m hoping this is not a never-ending story.


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Progress report

Look. There it is. Can you see it? It's the light at the end of the tunnel. I finally feel like I'm seeing an end to the cleaning, painting, sprucing, gardening, as I get my home ready to sell.

The major projects are complete (knock on wood) and I'm moving on to the final touches. A little primping and staging. Final check for dust bunnies and cobwebs lurking in the hinder regions. Last minute refinements. Fluff the pillow, arrange the flowers. Breathe a big sigh of relief. Well, not quite yet. I have to sell it first.

I've got to admit -- I'm dead tired. The days have been long and I've used muscles that don't get worked on the weight training circuit. I fall dead asleep only to wake up at one in the morning with horrible thoughts that I don't even want to put in writing. Then I toss and turn like the devil's in my bed.

But at the same time I've got a proud sense of satisfaction as I look around and see sparkling tile and shiny clean windows. The touches of new paint are giving a fresh appeal. The decluttering of table and desk tops make the rooms feel sleek and airy.

Now it's time to turn to the main man for help. Aside from some shrewd marketing I'm putting in place, the sale of my home is in the hands of St. Joseph. I really was not comfortable with the thought of burying the poor guy, upside down no less. I mean really, who thought of that? Then a friend said she just said a prayer to him and placed the statue in a cozy cabinet. Her house sold the first day. Yay. No dirt, no head stands.

I searched for pictures of St. Joseph and came across this sweet one. Typically you see him holding the baby Jesus, but I like that here he is in his own house and even has a dog!

My open house is Sunday. I'm praying for good weather. I'm praying for a good turn out. I'm asking for a solid buyer (no psycho fanatics,please). I am hopeful. I am optimistic. I will keep you posted.

The little engine that could

Sweeping. Dusting. Mopping. Washing. Sneezing. Pruning. Weeding. Edging. Taping. Painting. Scraping. Wheezing. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

That's pretty much been my life the past week and the reason I am MFTB (missing from the blogosphere).

As I plunge into the process of getting my home ready to sell, there have been moments of great satisfaction when it seems like progress is being made. There was also one wildly fretful episode when a gaze around the 80 year old basement was so overwhelming I fell into a dark spinning fog of high anxiety.

Cobwebs have been splitting and reproducing faster than a drunken amoeba. I cannot get the smell of latex gloves off my hands. My hair and body form a kaleidoscope of paint colors.

Yesterday I was reeling in a complete panic, crazed by the scope of work needing to be done. Then last night I watched a show called "The Hoarders" on A&E. Seeing those poor people squeezing through narrow paths etched out in the waist high debris that completely filled their homes, my vigor and determination returned.

In a random flick of the channel my tasks suddenly seemed very doable. You gotta love synchronicity.


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Movin' on

A few months back I wrote a post titled "Shift Happens". It was about those times in your life when you suddenly see things differently or when you head off unexpectedly in a new direction. For reasons, maybe obvious or maybe unknown, the universe gives you a little nudge, the winds change and your life, along with the energy around you, shifts its course.

Well, I find myself in the maelstrom of a "status quo interuptus".

This is what happens when you take some down time to recharge and re-evaluate. It's during that peaceful reverie, that self reflection, that the nudge comes and you find yourself bumped into a new frame of mind.

And that is not a bad thing.

To get myself moving in a new direction, I've decided to sell my house. It's something I've considered for a while and when that shift hit, I was ready to accept the change.

Yes, the process is going to be stressful, but I'm looking to the end result and I know that optimistic outlook will get me through the turbulence. Right now what I'm knee deep in and not loving is the cleaning and painting, and painting and cleaning.

There is something satisfying, though, in seeing the boxes of crap ascending out of my basement and filling up the dumpster. Something devilishly delightful in knowing the crabgrass will be the new owner's problem. Something quite jubilant about the anticipation of setting up in a new home. (I'm a Virgo, I love organization.)

The down side, sadly, is that this wild work schedule of clean up and freshen up will keep me away from the blogosphere for a while. The upside is that when I return I am sure I will have keen stories to tell about the basketball-sized dust bunnies lurking behind the dresser, lookie-loos testing my pesky nature and the plethora of nasty rental properties.

Until then, remain in good cheer and embrace the unexpected.


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Gone fishin'

While the saying "gone fishin'" is in this context just a metaphor, it does convey my current state of mind. I'm feeling the need to recharge, rejuvenate, re-evaluate. So I'm going to take some time away from blogging and wallow in a state of reverie.

Hanging out in the blogosphere has become so second nature to me that stepping away for a while will put me into a bit of withdrawal, but I know I will be back. Maybe in two days, maybe in two weeks.

Keep on being creative and sassy and honest and irreverent. I hope you all will be here when I return.


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