Yesterday afternoon our realtor contacted us to let us know that someone wanted to look at our house today. They gave us 24 hours notice - I was ecstatic to have so much advance warning (for a change)!
We woke up this morning and got to work. Mr. Wonderful mowed the lawn, transplanted some flowers, cleaned the guest cottage and prettied up the yard. I shampooed the carpet in the kid's rooms, steam mopped the entire house - even under the furniture, and cleaned and organized and dusted and vacuumed the entire house...with help from P!
The house is gorgeous.
It glistens and gleams and smells delightful. The glass sparkles, the wood glows, the pillows are all plumped and there are even flowers on the table. It looks totally unlike the way it usually looks.
So guess what happened at 2:30 this afternoon?
The phone rang.
It was our realtor. That's never a good sign.
The people cancelled.
Supposedly, the wife isn't feeling well.
Supposedly, they will reschedule.
On the glass is half-empty side of my brain I am sad, and dejected, and exhausted.
On the glass is half-full side of my brain I am satisfied that the house is clean, and I am proud of all of us for working so hard today. Which reminds me of how exhausted I am...
Have I mentioned lately how much fun it is trying to sell a house in today's market with?
Murphy is alive and well and enjoying knocking the VK's off their feet every chance he gets.
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