Saturday, July 14, 2012

A guest in my own house

Just touching base.  I am, these days, living very simply as I cannot create any type of mess in our house - this runs contrast to Cookie's daily routine, which is to live in the house" and all over the house.  I am by no means a messy person, but I am also not so anal that dust a room every day, either.

What this means is, I am essentially a guest in my own house.  I am not really a resident.  More of a caretaker for an absent owner who could appear at any moment.  I can pretend that I live here, but I not allowed to just relax without fear that I'll be caught with a tissue in a garbage can, or watching the TV in the living room.

I can't leave clothes on the floor, or dishes in the sink.  No unfolded clothes in the drier or wet clothes in the washer, and God forbid that there are dirty clothes in the laundry chute.

For that matter, all the guides tell me not to cook in my kitchen - don't want to risk any smells (garlic, onion, etc.) that could offend potential buyers.  The garbage has to be emptied out of every waste can whenever I leave the house and the dogs go to doggie daycare every day.  When i get home from dropping them off, their crates have to go to the basement where they stay least anyone schedule a visit while I am away and they see the crates as "clutter in the rooms where they normally reside.

Everything I am wearing is somewhat wrinkled - the movers packed the iron and the ironing board.  My collection of art pottery sits in a warehouse on the west side of town.

And then there is the dog hair.  We have two - Mister's Rocky and Kevin, and while I have given both instructions not to shed, they pretend as if I am speaking in French, and all they understand is Esperanto, so the shedding continues, despite my brushing them and Swiffering up the errant bits of fur.

My daily routine is to get up, make the bed, brush my teeth, use the sink, clean the sink, use the toilet and then clean the toilet.  After I shower, I have to wipe everything down, not so it can air dry, but so it *sparkles* because I never know what or where I will be when the listing service will call with the the question: "I have an Agent who like to show your house in":

1) Tomorrow
2) Today at...
3) In one hour - and the dreaded -
4) They are out front.  Can you accommodate them on the spur of the moment? Now?

With the husband in Baltimore full-time now, my company is the TV - and there is nothing that is ever on to watch - and the dogs.  So I tend to lose track of what day it is, as the dogs are terrible at keeping calendars for me.

Tomorrow I have things to do as there are showings in the late afternoon.  But is tomorrow Sunday, or Monday - everything just seems to blend into one long day after another after another.


  1. Rule is, dump once, spray twice.

  2. Two things:

    1. It must be hell to be living this temporary existence. Have there been any nibbles at all on the house?

    2. I've got some serious envy...I've always wanted a lundry chute.

    1. I have a laundry chute, but dare I use it? What if there is a showing and I forget to wash the clothes!

      But now you have me thinking...does the new house have a laundry chute?

  3. Avoid GIN at any rate.

    Alles Gute.

  4. I understand. The following helped me through a transitional time. ;)

    Time of the Interim

    When near the end of day, Life has drained out of light
    And it is too soon for the mind of night to have darkened things

    No place looks like itself
    Loss of outline makes everything look strangely in-between
    Unsure of what has been or what may come

    In this wan light, even the trees seem groundless
    In a while, it will be night, but
    Nothing here seems to believe the relief of dark

    You are in this time of the interim
    Where everything seems withheld

    The path you took to get here has washed out
    The way forward is still concealed from you

    The old is not old enough to have died away
    The new is still too young to be born

    You cannot lay claim to anything
    In this place of dusk, your eyes are blurred, and there is no mirror

    Everyone else has lost sight of your heart, and
    You can see nowhere to put your trust
    You know you have to make your own way through

    As far as you can, hold your confidence
    Do not allow your confusion to squander this call
    Which is loosening your roots in false ground
    That you may come free from all you have outgrown

    What is being transfigured here is your mind, and
    It is difficult and slow to become new

    The more faithfully you can endure here
    The more refined your heart will become
    For your arrival in the new dawn...