You Think Three Hours is a Long Time?

I am so defeated today. From head to toe. Yeah sure, the girls are doing their more than average "whatever, Mom" four going on fourteen thing. But I am feeling blue for a totally different, and probably more ridiculous reason. You see... (I feel a story coming on)



...we got our first call to see the house last night. Of course after the kids had just woken up from naps and I stepped out of the shower, I got the voicemail. A realtor wanted to come by and bring her client to see our house. Our house that we recently put up on the market- yet I had still been agonizing over the lack of interest by the general public. Someone wanted to see it! At six! It was currently 4:30. Sure, I could whip this place into shape by six. I might even be able to have the kids all fed and quarantined in the backyard by then.

I gave the realtor a call back and told her six was great. Um, ok. She wanted to come earlier. How much earlier? She did not know. Ok... don't panic. YOU CAN DO THIS. You can rock the wham out of this first showing. And they will come in and love it. They will make an offer tonight! For full price! It will be downright MAGICAL!

It takes me exactly one hour and fifteen minutes to clean, declutter, dust, and make my whole house look impeccable. (well, as long as you don't look too hard) The sweat was pouring off me, and I was snapping at the children, and I was checking the clock every two minutes. Five thirty came and went. Six came and went. And I was wondering how long I could keep the kids in the backyard without somebody eating dirt (I missed the mark on that two handfuls of dirt ago) At 6:30 The Husband called. I yelled at him for not being the realtor. And he told me I should call this lady up and see if they were coming... or not... or what exactly was going on. It took a few voicemails/missed calls before speaking to the realtor. They still wanted to see the house (squee!) but they wouldn't be here until 7:30 or 8. (banging head against wall)

Little Man's bedtime was 7pm. Followed by the twins at 8. How exactly was this going to go down? This was supposed to be IT! (totally logical, I know. Selling your house on the first showing to the first person who sees it. Totally) At this point I decided that this showing was happening. I was going to force it to. It's not like we have people beating down the door to see our place- which kills me.

I bathed, pajama-ed, and popped all three kids in the car and sent them off with The Husband to drive around for an hour and a half... while I polished the good silver... waiting for the "clients" to get here. Eight o'clock on the dot the doorbell rang and I pepped myself up. All we need to do is get someone in here- and they'll surely fall in love! I opened the door to the realtor and this tall bachelor guy who was more or less my age. Hrm. Ok. Moving on! Look at the granite! The huge island! The spectacular kitchen! No.

The first thing this guy asked was "Can I look at your garage?"

The GARAGE?!

WHAT?!

WHY?

IT'S A GARAGE!

Then the realtor followed up that kicker with "Well... it's kind of... small. Is this all you have downstairs?"

My jaw hit the floor. I muttered "we have a half bath there... and a huge storage closet under the stairs?"

Silence.

They checked out the backyard (the worst feature of our house) and went upstairs without saying a word. I don't even think the kid LOOKED at my kitchen.

After he came downstairs and asked "do you have CAT-5 hookups in every room?" That's when I realized that this house was not for him.

He didn't give a flying cat's tail about travertine tiles, plantation shutters, upgraded fixtures, oil rubbed bronze faucets, none of it. He was looking for a place to park his aggressively large vehicle, plug in his computer, and maybe a spot for his pool table. (which would be a lovely addition to our loft... ahem! Realtor lady!)

They both came back down from apparently disliking the upstairs and hemmed and hawed. "It's a little... pricey." The realtor deemed. Sure, alright, lady. And small, right? Don't forget small. Make sure you avoid noticing the designer drawer pulls while you're at it. I told her the appliances were most likely staying. That had to be something... right? Stainless steel! Not crap builder grade washer and dryer in a cool beige tone!

"Meh. Ok."

As they left, I fell into a state of inconsolable stewing. I know my house isn't perfect. It is too small... for a family of FIVE. But it is pretty darned nice compared to what else I've seen on the market in the price range! And it's just a single guy and HIS DOG. (Crap! I should have mentioned the fact that we are a two minute walk from a dog park! Stupid!)

The Husband came home and tried not to get tangled up into my tornado of misery. I was tired. I had "over-cleaned," (it's a problem, a real problem) and I had skipped both lunch and dinner at that point- I was in a depressing spiral. What really hit the ball home was the idea that I might have to DO ALL THIS OVER AGAIN! There may (hopefully) be other potential buyers! They will probably not arrive on time! And they might hate my house, too! And to top it off I will have spend an inordinate amount of time and effort cleaning! Ugh!

I am never buying another house ever again. (err... well, I don't want to!) I am just not cut out for this. My Mom told me I needed some thick skin to sell a house in any market... but most likely especially this market. Well, I ain't got it!
Now I just need to convince The Husband that permanently renting is really the way to go. (resistance is futile, Husband)