FOR SALE....

I stood in my kitchen exhausted and frazzled.  I was ridiculously worn out from the constant cleaning of my house for the sole purpose of showing it to potential buyers.

I had once been in love with my quaint little home.  It was the first place that my better half and I had built. The first place we owned together as a couple.  It was where we would find our love of our life, better known as Fred our little pooch.  It’s where I would create myself a garden of my dreams.  It was the place that I had lovingly and painstakingly decorated to suit both the female and male personas living there.  It was where we had displayed our art together, our dreams together, our joys together and our hearts together. It was, simply put, a reflection of our love.

We knew at some point we would out grow our little nest and so begun the process of selling our home.  We had listed it last year, but after two and half months on the market and seeing countless homes for ourselves, I had second thoughts and pulled the listing.

I knew however at the beginning of this year, that time was running out and we needed at some point to reconsider our options.  And with resignation and a heavy heart, we came home two weeks ago to see the “For Sale” sign neatly placed amongst our garden.

With a little too much pride, I had began spending an inordinate amount of time polishing, dusting, vacuuming, sweeping and cleaning my little home.  And last night was no different with the exception of the players involved.

Standing beside me was my mother who silently stared off into the distance and neither participated in any conversation or assisted me in any way possible.  Curious I thought and this was so out of character for my mother, whose love of cleaning I inherited.

I followed the direction of her gaze and saw a strange woman standing in my living room.  She was my new realtor she said.  Stunned, I wondered where Richard, my actual realtor was. Unfazed, I accepted her explanation of things and carried on with my nightly cleaning ritual.

I noted that she was busily moving things and placing things and creating a disaster. I kept questioning this new relator’s motives.  And she kept asking me to trust her.  With a glance at my watch, I realized that I had less than 10 minutes to pull my house together, and too boot, I was still in my pajamas.

With one more gaze at the time, I heard this horribly screeching sound from outside. In a furiously, hurried pace, I ran out the door to spy people sitting at my neighbours across the street singing and playing a guitar and smoking weed.  What the heck was going on?  Who were these people and when did my neighbourhood become a 1960's flower power show?  At the top of my lungs and in a voice I did not recognize, I bellowed “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP”.  I had lost my calm composure and ran back inside my home!  Seriously, how on earth was I going to sell my house with a realtor who had just messed up my freshly cleaned home and with the local neighbourhood hippies strumming their guitars outside my window.  I was doomed.  I was tired.  And damn, I was still in my pajamas.

And then they came, the potential buyers.... and with a ring of my doorbell....

I woke up.

Relieved that it was a nightmare, I got out of bed and with a pitter patter of my feet and a deep long sigh, I quietly opened the blinds and peaked out the window, and there it was, gleaming in all it's glory in the soft creamy haze of the moonlight, the “for sale” sign. And with a furtive glance at the clock on the wall, I realized that I had only 2 more hours of sleep left before I had to get up and get my house ready for a viewing, all for the joy of selling. And as I went to pull down the blinds, I realized that I was wrong, the buyers were coming now and that I had overslept, and damn if I wasn't still in my pajamas.

And then I really woke up!

Until Next Time.

Tracy