....my ever-loving mind. We have had four house showings in as many days. Which is great! But I can't do this for much longer. I get knots in my stomache. I have to race home from work a half hour prior to the showing....do a cursory sweep and blow any remaining dog hair of the couch (god bless leather furniture), then light some scented candles, wrangle four dogs into the van and go for a drive while people come in to tour my home.
On Monday, the boy promised he would be home from work by 5:30. Which was perfect timing because the showing was at 6. He could help me with the dogs, and I would have company while I drove around the neighborhood killing time.
There was just one problem with this plan. He didn't get home at 5:30. Nor did he arrive at 5:45. But the realtor did. So did the propective buyers. Strange people milling about in my laneway means 4 excited dogs, barking at the window and jumping over each other. It means me frantically looking for their leashes. It means them completely ignoring my hushed please to co-operate with me just this once. It means panic as I'm trying to wrestle them out the door. It means furstration. It means tears welling up in my eyes as I hear the agent coming through the back door. It means me tripping over 4 dogs while trying to make it out the front door unseen. It means me dropping one leash and having to chase one of the dogs half a block up the road. It means my purse getting tangled in the leashes and spilling it's contents onto my neighbours lawn. It means a combined weight of almost 150 pounds of canine pulling me up the street in my flip flops. It means me cursing the boy the entire way.
Don't ever sell your house. Just stay where you are.