Every Sunday since we put our house up for sale, I rush home from Mass and start cleaning like a crazy woman. Every Sunday we seem to get a steady stream of people (well, maybe not steady, but a stream none the less) that come through our house. We are hoping they buy, but they are probably just our neighbors from across town who are nosey.
Anyway, I would love to clean this house on a Friday or a Saturday and have it STAY clean for our Sunday-potential buyers-but probably just snoopers-but that would be impossible. It is impossible because of all of the little people that reside in this home. I walk out of a perfectly clean room only to walk back in and see papers, crayon wrappers, socks, Polly Pocket pants, army men, notebooks with entries like "100 reason why I loathe my mother," and even strewn underpants and empty beer bottles. How does this happen?
So, as I was saying, on Sunday I rush home to clean. By Sunday night I am pulling my hair out because I look around and it is a mess again.
I finally figured out why...
I am not really cleaning. I am doing the "just stuff the junk in any spare drawer, closet, corner, even the empty soup tureen" dance with destruction.
Moving has done this to me. The military has made me a world class junk hider. My children have made me... well, fat... but that is another post. And the potential buyers who are probably just snoopers have made me a pack rat!
I can't wait until we sell this house so I can go back to having all of my junk out where I don't have to be ashamed. It is exhausting putting on this facade of living in a home that is always clean-and you too can live in a constantly clean home IF YOU JUST BUY MINE!!!
I can't wait until Monday.
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We are supposed to be moving at some point (what point? no clue, could be two months from now) in the next 3 years. I'm already panicking, as I look around here. There is something on every surface and yikes, all of our closets and drawers are all ready full. Where am I going to hide everything???
Ever thought about mentoring those of us who may not have your gifts? (Our house will probably go on the market next month.)
Hey, read my post entitled "the end of an era", and you'll be feeling better about hiding your crap in no time!Seriously.Anyway, here's an idea for next sunday: when you go home, throw your dirty dishes in the oven. No one will ever know. Just make sure you don't forget they are there and bake them at 450 later on.I did that once. Hey i'm gonna blog about that soon.Good luck with the house. And just remember, nobody's perfect.
Haha, I won't look in yours if you don't look in mine!
Happy St Patrick's Day, Cris! Can't wait for the St Patrick's Day post -- and the post-StPatrick'sDay post!
:-D
My children have made me... well, fat...
That line made me laugh out loud!
Once my kids swore to me that they had no clothes. I swore that they did and promised to check. Found the clothes -- under the beds and on the closet floors. (all boys, of course. Men are genetically programmed to be unable to *see* floors.) But what, you may ask, was in their dressers? Were they indeed empty? HAH! The dressers were full of used kleenex ("But Mom, it was too dark to see the trash can!"), tags from clothes, ("But, Mom! Those make great bookmarks!") and packaging from toys, ("But, Mom! I saw on 'Antiques Roadshow' that toys end up worth more if you keep the packaging!"). Along with other things too numerous/gross to mention.
Another time I threatened to throw away anything that wasn't where it belonged. There are three bags still hidden in the laundry room. I just didn't have the heart to throw away all the various brightly colored bits of plastic so dear to their hearts. Plus, the underwear will fit someone again, eventually.
God willing, I am SO never moving!
God bless y'all!
Yeah, I was at a party once where the hostess had hidden the dirty dishes in the oven. It was all good until a guest came in with heat and serve hors d'oeuvres and took the liberty of pre-heating the oven. The smell of melting plastic was less than festive.
The house selling ordeal is something I wouldn't want to go through for anything. My sister has been trying to sell her house for almost two years. The last showing was cancelled - after she had pulled herself off of her flu "death bed" to help her hubby and kids whip the place back into shape. Let's just say her Irish heritage sure came in handy when it was time talk about her feelings!
SOmetimes when company is coming, I might stash a stack of things in the laundry room. It's off the garage, so I figure- who's going to see it. IT NEVER FAILS...my husband will be outside (by way of the garage of course) when our company arrives, and yes...you guessed it...he bring them in THROUGH THE LAUNDRY ROOM. *UGGH!!* I've stopped using the laundry room, because he just doesn't get it. *sigh*
We're going through the same process over here. We've got another open house tomorrow. I HATE living like this. A clean house is a sign of a boring life.
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