Wednesday, February 20, 2013

It All Started With A Lime

I had to slice a lime the other day. I was about to do my lazy method of cutting it right there on the counter top when I stopped myself.

No, I don't have granite counter tops. So if you are one of those whiny babies from House Hunters who walks into a kitchen and crabs "But it doesn't have granite counter tops!", then don't even bother coming to my open house. I bought you stainless steel appliances, even though I really don't like them. Seriously, folks. Y'all aren't Giada and Paula in the kitchen. You're no food diva, so make do!

But I digress.

I was about to cut into that lime lazy style when a voice inside of my head said "You better grab a cutting board. You wouldn't want to nick these lovely, perfectly functional and tasteful (okay, I'm getting heavy on the adjectives here) laminate counter tops before you sell them."

And that's when it dawned on me. I am in full real estate mode now.

Real estate mode switches over so subtly that you often can't pinpoint its onset. You only know when you're full-on into it. Kind of like the flu.

You start to look at your rooms with a critical eye. Too much clutter. Better make a list to remind myself to remove the family photos. Wow, those baseboards are scuffed. Must buy a Magic Eraser.

In normal, day to day living, you could care less about scuffed baseboards. But when you have a case of real estate flu, it makes you hyper sensitive.

The fever comes to a peak shortly after the For Sale sign goes in the front yard. That's when you find yourself in the crazy ranting phase.

"Who left the dirty glass in the sink?!"

"No, you cannot fry bacon! That smell will stay in the house for days!"

"THIS is why God made Chlorox Wipes, people!"

I'm not looking forward to that phase, even though I know it's inevitable.

And did I mention that my husband will be living in temporary housing during the week while I'm home alone with a child and a dog, trying to keep this place clean and open house ready at all times? It won't be pretty.

I'm tiptoeing into this phase now, looking at bathroom cabinets and overstuffed linen closets with a jaundiced eye, giving a little attention to one neglected space at a time. I know I'll need an extra dose of grace in the days ahead.

When real estate flu sets in, grace is the best medicine.

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