Timing is everything....which is why I don't own a watch

So we had a relatively successful open house last week. Showed people around. Got great feedback. But no offers, and no agents came to show the house this week. And I have to say the house did look fabulous. On Sunday. Even Monday. So Tuesday it looked a little lived in. Wednesday a little more. But since no one was banging the door down to see, who cared. We're tired of being the Cleavers. So yesterday I actually left the bed unmade. Ok I did that Wednesday too. And I left the mail on the counter. And glasses in the sink. Today I just didn't give a crap.

I did not make the bed. I didn't clear all my miracle age-defying lotions off the vanity. I left the 5 ton box of Cheerios on the counter. The blender from hubby's new miracle protein shakes soaking. I didn't straighten out the 50 tennis magazines on the side table. And I didn't wipe all those smudges off the fridge. I didn't do squat.

And I was having a pretty good day. My daughter was having a birthday and I wasn't with her and that might have made me very very sad, but it's Friday. And at 3pm, Happy Hour for Bejeweled Blitz. Yee Ha. 

But 3pm came and I was still working but that was OK, because I would have plenty of time since it lasts for 4 hours. So I worked another hour or so, and was just about to have some fun and that's when it all came apart. First it starts pouring rain outside and my other daughter was just getting off the bus so I start worrying she's going to get drenched. Then my mother calls and starts asking me what all the numbers on her lab work mean. Um, Mom, you're confusing me with someone else's daughter who became a doctor.  I was the underachiever remember?

Then that call is interrupted by...you can guess can't you...a realtor. Yup. Seems after absolutely NO interest all week, we had to show the house during bejeweled happy hour. Really. No one wants to see it when it's clean and prepped. And we have nothing to do. Nope. They want to show it when it looks like a stage set for Hoarders: Buried Alive. Put aside those thoughts of being crowned Empress of Bejeweled Land. Not happening today.

Anyone who has ever sold a house that they are living in knows the drill. In one hour you have to make up for every lazy ass thing you didn't do all week. It's a marathon race to the finish. When you're done, with only seconds to spare, usually sweating like you just ran the Boston Marathon, you have to zip out the door. And find a new place to dwell....temporarily. In our case, we go next door. 

First, we like the company, though they probably could do without the unexpected visitors! Plus we like to try to spy out the window at the prospective buyers. So we hang out there for awhile, which is always a nice treat, watch some TV, chit chat, and then we go back. To find that the agent only signed in a few minutes earlier. That means they couldn't have been there very long. All that, so they could walk in, go hey, nice place, and leave? And by now it's already 6pm and there's only an hour left of happy hour, but I have to fix dinner, and shower, and then eat the dinner and now it's 7 and happy hour is over. 

Until Next Friday. When you can be assured either my house will be spotless or the phone will be unplugged.

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