They say you should never say “never,” but one thing I never, ever want to do for a living is work in real estate. Or any kind of high pressure sales, for that matter. I hate the games they all play and I hate the process of selling a house. These “Where I Am Right Now” posts are becoming all too common for me recently, but here’s another one, because, well, because my blog is an easy place to vent and I’ve about driven my husband crazy with this and still need an outlet, so aren’t you lucky to have stumbled across the boredom that is my blog these days?
So, anyway, we had a realtor’s open house yesterday. In preparation, I scrubbed the bathrooms, dusted, vacuumed, straightened up everything and generally got the house as clean as possible when there are still five people living here (and sadly no longer a little dog – we’re still crying and hope has dwindled, by the way – more on that later, maybe). I took Boo and we went to the school and I made Mrs. G’s copies like I do every Monday (fun times with an antsy two-year-old along for the ride since Gram was sick and couldn’t watch her), then to Chick-fil-A for lunch, Blockbuster to return a movie, and a 45-minute drive to Target for some time consuming shopping. I bought Boo a Disney princesses sleeping bag. Very cute. Hopefully we will be able to teach her how to sleep in it before our trip to Florida in a couple of weeks. But I digress.
When I got back that afternoon, our realtor had left us some of the delicious gumbo he had served for the lunch time open house and it was yummy. Also, there were some anonymous feedback forms. Most of the comments were constructive, most we knew, but one has me flummoxed. Now I will demonstrate just what I mean when I say that my oldest son’s tendency to obsess comes naturally to him by way of his mother. On one form, the only comment made was this: “Needs cleaning (bathroom).” Friends, that one has me all in a dither. Ask my husband, who is having to live with me. I scrubbed those bathrooms that morning, and there was not one spot anywhere to be seen. I even Windexed the faucets so they were waterspot-free and shining. Those are clean bathrooms. They are cleaner than the professional maid service left them. You may recall an earlier post when I mentioned I had been less than thrilled and had to go back and clean things to my satisfaction. So, I have to tell you, I am dying to ask our realtor who the obsessive compulsive is who came into our home and, of all the legitimate things that could have been commented on, chose that one. I’m wondering if they were thinking of a different house. Seriously. That was my thought.
I did not know that Adrian Monk had left San Francisco and was now working as a realtor in our neck of the woods. Interesting. Drew tells me I need to let this go. He’s right. But, though our house is not perfect, and we know that, the bathrooms are very clean. I know this because I have been busting my tail every morning to make sure they remain so.
I’m done now. Thanks for listening.