Yesterday I was having a moment. After going through this routine for three days with no showings, I decided it was useless and threw myself on the couch to nurse my sore throat/cold. Why do this crap if no one's arriving for the museum tour?
With books, laptop, mags, kleenexes, candy wrappers, and the remains from lunch strewn about, I was dozing in a Coricidin HBP haze when the doorbell rang. I couldn't answer because I didn't have my tooth in. (Remember the implant story?) Craig answered and I heard the voice of real estate. I'm in the neighborhood with clients and can't get in touch with your realtor. Would you mind . . . .
Oh God. 20 minutes! 20 minutes!
Craig grabbed the vacuum and I manned the paper towels and cleaning bottles. The doorbell rang again and it was our realtor. She lives directly across the street and her husband had sounded the alarm. There's a man at their door! Do they have a showing? She grabbed the paper towels and granite spray and told me to start turning the lights on all over the house.
Lights. Camera. Action!
Now it's 7:00 a.m. and we've already tidied the front wing of the house (no one lives there and we're looking to ditch about a 1000 sq. ft. with this move) and moved on to laundry. The museum must be ready to open by 9 a.m.
Craig's become obsessed with the little yellow palo verde flowers that drop from the trees in the park behind and blow into the pool. Yesterday he was trying to determine if the Bumpuses were getting the brunt of the flower fall into their pool. He peaked over the 6 foot wall and oh my God! There was Mrs. Bumpus in a white bikini splayed in a lounger by the pool with those little suntanning booth goggles on trying to maximize the skin damage before she flies home on the tail end of the snowbird migration. He came back into the house chuckling. We had no clue she was still there! Love those quiet neighbors.
On that note, here are some photos of other people sizzling in the sun on a warm white beach in the tropics.
Oh to be this young again!
I spy a pigeon enjoying a Dos Equis with his coconut.
On an end note, got crack?