I wish a picture could convey how amazingly sparkling and shiny and gorgeous it is . . . I'll try tomorrow if there's any
I've only had it for just shy of 10 years; you think I'd know how amazingly beautiful it is. (But it has been at least three since it has been really, really clean. Bad girl, I am.)
So now, it's off to finish putting the groceries away, try to get a few things straightened up after a couple of days of not feeling so good (don't'cha hate it when that happens, and the ENTIRE house is immediately overtaken by the law of entropy, and you can't even find your couch?), and try to not laugh too hard when a realtor shows up in the morning with a prospective buyer. I had a premonition about this as I was driving away from the house this morning, but the call didn't actually come until about 6pm tonight. However, the other guy's realtor begged and begged our realtor, who then begged and begged us, to let the guy see the house. I guess that if he doesn't see it, he won't buy it. And if he sees it, he still may not buy it . . . but there's always the off chance that he'll be able to see past the clutter, the post-holiday chaos, the half-painted and totally trashed bedroom, and all of that, and see that our place is the best deal in the neighborhood. Which it is, by about $50k.
Anybody wanna buy a house?