So, we are trying to sell our house. This translates to “let’s do every little home improvement project we wanted to do for the last 10 years but were too lazy to do and continually procrastinated on so that we can turn around and sell our house and never enjoy all the freaking work we just put into it.” Or something like that. It also loosely translates to “the house was in fine shape until we put the damn thing on the market and now everything is falling apart.”
Case in point: paint. So, I may have sort of started painting half the house about eight years ago…and gotten bored part way through and stopped. And then I went to law school and did some other stuff that more legitimately justified my unfinished painting project for eight years running. Okay, so finish it, Stupid. Seems simple enough…but…I can’t remember the names of the paint colors from eight years ago and leftovers are nowhere to be found. So last weekend involved going to Kelly Moore and looking through 10-year-old paint swatches trying to remember if my dining room was Bohemian or Greystone. Because there are 87 goddamn shades of beige. SO fun. I finally remembered the dining room colors, but it wasn’t happening with the master bath so I just repainted that WHOLE thing back to its previous color. Yay!
Then, a few days ago, we awake at 6:30am to hear our daughter freaking out about ants. We go into her room and this is what we find:
Okay. Well not exactly. Because my daughter is 15 and doesn’t really dress like that. Anyway, point being…we haven’t had a problem with ants in the house in YEARS. Put the son of a bitch on the market and voila – ants. So after 45 minutes with the vacuum and what became the “ant holocaust” – no more ants. You’re going to have to do better than that, House!
Then I’m in the service porch and I notice a missing piece of tile – a corner piece. Not chipped, not cracked, gone. My house is 27 years old! I’m going to go out on a limb and say I’m not gonna be able to find a piece of matching tile! Does ANYONE know what happened to it? Of course not. No idea. Noticed it missing…but didn’t think to mention it. This is a 4″ x 1″ piece of ceramic tile. I firmly believe that if you knocked it off, you would have heard it fall. But noooooo…it was the leprechauns, apparently. Then I counted to 10 so that I wouldn’t grab the good vodka from liquor cabinet and run away from home.
Oh – and for some insane reason, when my 15-year-old was little, we didn’t stop her from sticking stickers on her bedroom door. I can’t explain it. I guess it was cute for a while. Well, she’s added over the last 10 years to the tune of about 500 stickers. you really could barely see the door through them. Yes, it would have been easier to just buy and paint a new door, but I was feeling particularly cheap last weekend so me and my OCD spent 3 hours peeling stickers off her bedroom door. She helped. I would like to thank Hello Kitty for making stickers that come off in one piece and leave no tacky residue behind. I would like to tell Zoo Books to go straight to Hell because their stickers are made with some kind of satanic glue that only a significant amount of paint thinner could cope with.
Sigh. Anyway, this is all still a work in progress. I won’t go into the back-breaking day we spent weeding and covering half the yard in bark. Next weekend I get to go to Home Depot like I’m on some shitty scavenger hunt looking for a single piece of archaic tile. Labor Day – shmaber day. I’m going to be working on the fucking house.
And how many people have come to see our beautiful home that is now looking the best it has in a decade??? TWO. In three weeks. TWO showings. And this, Kids, is why mommy drinks.