Thursday, January 29, 2009


Nothing like two appointments to show the house to light a fire under me. I've been dusting, scrubbing, vacuuming, sweeping. I remind myself of that old short story (Poe perhaps?) where the murderer is backing out of the house wiping fingerprints from everything he has touched. He gets more and more obsessed until they find him days later in the attic scrubbing away imaginary fingerprints where, of course, he never went in the first place.

Today's cleaning was the polar opposite of that pretend, silverware-drawer clean I wrote about the other day. At some point, when I was about to wash my travel makeup bag, I called a halt.

Yesterday we got a counteroffer to our counteroffer (try to keep up). If you stood on our offer and looked toward theirs, you couldn't even see it from here. We decided to lay low, but the people want to look at the house again anyway on Saturday afternoon.

I told the universe yesterday, "What might help this along is another person looking at the house at the same time." You know, get a little sense of competition. I assume the universe needs my advice.

This morning our realtor called to set another appointment for Saturday morning.

Will either of these folks buy our house? I don't know, but it's really nice to have a clean house.

And you may tell yourself
this is not my beautiful house
-- Talking Heads

--finished compiling tax info to give the accountant
--cleaned out under the house
--put washing machine parts on Ebay
--put the Flintstones thermos on Ebay for round two
--feeling better after a week of having shingles in my ear. really. awful.

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