Four bedrooms, finished basement, gourmet kitchen, in-ground pool, hot tub, fabulous four season sunroom. My existence has been reduced to this kind of description as I put my house on the market in anticipation of moving to a nearby active adult community (Canal Walk) sometime in the next few months (and not a minute before it is finished, of course).
For months, I have been getting rid of things. Many charities have benefitted from my extra clothes, sheets and towels. A garage sale in May rid me of more unused Yankee Candles than you can find in a Hallmark store (I could have opened my own branch). My hedge trimmer was happily scooped up by someone who might not cut the extension cord with it, as I did. (The first time I used it – which was the last time I used it – I thought to myself, “It isn’t a question of WHETHER I will accidentally cut this cord, it is a question of WHEN,” and, predictably, I did.)
I have gone through every photo album and box and given away (or tossed) pictures of people’s weddings whom I no longer see and who are no longer married. I just about gave away picture frames and empty photo albums. I went through old paperwork that somehow survived the last move, to this house in August of 2007 (I cannot explain how and why I still had bank statements from the 1980s, from banks that no longer exist) and shredded it. I made a vow that every time the garbage went out, so would SOMETHING from this house. Now I am down to the “bare necessities” (cough, cough) and I still have way too much stuff.
Knowing the house would be in the market soon, I turned my attention to organizing and optimizing what was there, cleaning everything from the lint catcher on the hair dryer to the hair brushes, because surely someone will say, “The kitchen was nice, but did you see how clean the hairbrushes were?” Ironically, when the realty SWAT team showed up for picture day, all of the necessities of daily living were quickly relegated to new homes. My towels were replaced by white ones, and a tray with a tea cup and saucer and a cloth napkin was strategically placed on my bed. Sure, I always keep a cup of tea on a tray ON THE BED! Again, maybe someone will see that and think – “That’s what I need to do, keep a tea cup and saucer on the bed.” Vases of fake flowers replaced my knickknacks, and my bowl of fake fruit on the kitchen island was replaced by a bigger bowl with more fake fruit. My toothbrush, soap and tissues were banned from the bathroom, as if no one actually has these things in their home.
Meanwhile, I kept cleaning. I consolidated the cleaning products (of which there were far too many duplicates, I must admit) by combining the like ones into a single bottle. I straightened up the kitchen cabinet in which they are stored. My sister and I redid the laundry room, which is now fit for photos itself. Switch plates were replaced, furniture was moved or removed, desktops were cleared and files put away. I had the house landscaped, the lawn mowed, the weeds whacked and every bush and tree trimmed. Flowers were planted (must remember to water…).
The house, deck and pool surround were powerwashed, the driveway sealed, the garage doors painted (by me!); the finished basement and the carpeted garage were vacuumed (again, maybe someone will buy the house just because of that feature). I hid the jewelry and stashed the cash. I’ll be lucky to find this stuff again before I move, which only points to the fact that I have stuff I don’t use and probably don’t need. I took a bunch of gadgets from the kitchen junk drawer – come on, you know you have one, too – and put them in a box labeled “extra kitchen gadgets” and vowed to toss the box next year if, after I move, it hasn’t been opened in six months. I can’t figure out why the drawer these gadgets came from still seems so crammed.
My bathrooms are so clean and shiny that I am afraid to use them. This condition is in stark contrast to the bathroom at my nephew’s rented house that he shared with some of his fraternity brothers. I made the mistake of taking a quick glance at it as I walked by while there for his graduation from the University of Maryland and that image will be burned into my brain forever. It was so disgusting that it made “Animal House” look like “Downton Abbey.” I can’t imagine using a bathroom that requires the wearing of a HAZMAT suit, but that is surely NOT the case here. Here at 17 Joshua Drive, one could do surgery in the bathroom or kitchen – that’s how well lit and spotless they are.
Now, with people coming in to see the house – we can only hope – I am finally making use of the huge collection of perfume strips that I faithfully remove from Macy’s ads and magazines and toss into the garbage cans and drawers to make them smell good. I play “Hide the toothbrush” every day, have soothing music playing and Candy Kisses out in a bowl for visitors. Maybe THAT will make the difference? Meanwhile, it is killing me to leave a room with the lights on, but, after all, people need to see the place, right?
If you see my car, it looks like I am a homeless person. A week’s worth of newspapers are on the floor of the backseat because I cannot leave them in the house. Apparently the homebuying market does not include people who read newspapers. I have books to be donated to the library, dry cleaning that I can’t leave in the house and a collection of umbrellas that are homeless themselves.
Each time a real estate agent texts me about showing the house, I straighten up once again, hiding the laundry, which I have to do late in the evening so it isn’t drying on a rack in the dining room when someone comes to see the house. The toaster has been off the counter for three weeks, hidden in a cabinet, and I am afraid to cook lest the odor of whatever I am making permeate the house and render it unmarketable.
So if you know anyone who is looking for a great party house with a gorgeous kitchen in a quiet neighborhood, a house that is described in the listing as “Super clean” (thank you for that), a house with a pool and large bedrooms, let me know. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m not sure whether I can live in this museum much longer.
Must run now. I have to hide the hair dryer. And I only hope I can find it again when I need it.
