I stopped at this creek on my walk today. As often happens, I was drawn to the sound of rushing water. I stood mesmerized by millions of tiny water droplets moving down from the mountains, toward another creek, another outlet.
The rushing waters, the lack of stability for those droplets, the knowledge that nothing that fell into that creek would remain on the surface for more than a moment, was weirdly familiar.
I’ve been feeling unmoored. We still live in our house, but more and more there is less and less of us in evidence. We have removed almost every personal item. Usually we have one wall dedicated to family history in pictures, plus pics of loved ones on most surfaces. Right now there are a small handful tucked discreetly in a few places. On the up side, some of my hubby’s art is on display, so there is some beauty to enjoy.
I have removed most of the art I collected for the yard, including my mosaic stepping stones. Only the house number and one stone are left out.
Despite my rather large personality, I sometimes feel like I need to make myself invisible. When staying with friends, I often work to erase any trace of my existence. I make sure that my stuff takes up minimal space, I keep my personal items close together, and when I depart, I try to leave everything exactly as I found it.
That is very similar to what having a “show ready” house means. The counters and table tops are basically empty of items we use daily, and when someone wants to see the house, we run around tucking everything away that we have pulled out in order to live, work, and sleep as comfortably as we can. We erase our existence in order to put on the best display for potential buyers, so they can fill in the blanks with visions of their own possessions. I hope that if we ever decide to move again, that we can move out first, and stage the house with someone else’s furniture and decor.
Technically we have agreed to two hours notice if someone wants to see the house. Today we got the “can they see the house now?” phone call. We obliged and were able to put things away, grab the dogs and head out the door in 15 minutes. The agent and clients stayed in the house for three minutes but are not interested. Now we move on and hope the next “showing” nets us a purchase offer.
Last time we lived like this for six months. The fact that we weren’t home most days and our real estate agent had to wrangle the dogs made it easier. We cleaned the house each morning before we left for work and were gone 12-14 hours. This time around, we are both working from home, so we are living in our house more aggressively.
I am very grateful to be in a position to sell and buy and move because we want to, not because we have to. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t stressful. The rush to clean, to leave, to become invisible is tiring.
Visceral Musings 