-Simon & Garfunkel
Listing your house for sale puts your life on hold.
And it is driving me more than a little crazy.
See, here is how the whole house-selling thing works, apparently:
You hire a Realtor, who wanders through your home and gushes about what a great house it is...
..... then tells you everything you need to change, fix, modify, improve, repair, replace, and renovate to be able to sell
Your helpful Realtor explains that prospective buyers need to be able to see themselves living in your home...
... which means your home cannot look like you live in your home.
You are introduced to the art of "staging," which basically means removing most of the art, furniture, family photos, books, knickknacks, and life from every room until the room echoes, and boxing it all up and stowing it in the basement/garage/garden shed...
.... at which point your Realtor suggests that the basement and the garage look a little cluttered- could you, you know, get rid of all that stuff?
You ask your Realtor for 24 hours notice before he shows your home to a prospective purchaser...
.... but your house apparently only attracts prospects who simply must see it today, right now, in 15 minutes.
You will discover how quickly you can dust and primp and make beds and fold towels and vacuum (again) dog hair...
.... and learn that one of your dogs has the ability to sneak ninja-like into the just -cleaned/dusted/primped/vacuumed den and hoark up an unpleasantly moist toaster oven- sized hairball in the middle of the floor which will go undetected for 11 more minutes until the prospective buyer discovers it.
Stately Jones Manor remains on the market.
And our lives remain on hold.
And it is killing me.
Knowing we might get a call about a
I can't write with that 15 minute state of readiness looming over my head. I am a full- immersion kinda scribbler. My computer is my diving bell- I sit down in front of the screen and two or three or four hours later I surface, either mission accomplished or out of oxygen and low on fuel.
Luckily, today's unpleasant freezing-rain filled weather forecast is keeping most people snug and secure in their own homes, drastically reducing the already low chances of a Realtor drop-by, allowing me to finally dive back into the blog.
So here we be, you and I.
Further complicating the writer's block is a dearth of new material to write about. With the skunkworks beneath Stately Jones Manor filled with all of the de-staged detritus from the rooms upstairs, and the ever present risk of a
Paddleboards are postponed, just pieces of wood on a bench, potential unrealized. A big boat build is out of the question, what with no room to manhandle and maneuver sheets of mahogany ply. Even simple stuff like refinishing companionway doors is on hold, as that requires sanding and varnishing, which creates dust and odors which may be offensive to some viewers.
All of the cleaning and fixing and futzing and waiting and having to be far more perfect home-makers than we have ever had to be and just plain enduring would be worth it, if it helps to sell the
Alas, it hasn't.
Not even a nibble.
The listing has a couple more weeks to run, and then we will pull the sign out of the front lawn...
... and think about doing it again in the spring.
In the meantime, this act of sitting down at the keyboard and actually writing something about why I haven't been writing anything has caused me to revisit this season, and I realize that I have lots of material to work with, just tying up the loose plot ends of this season's tales. So, over the next few days I will catch up
on the cast of characters and their crises. There's news.
In the meantime,
"Talk the Dock!