And Then I Stepped in Gum . . .

A Helpful Household Hint

Having trouble keeping your house cleaned regularly? Here's a little tip from me to you. Pretend that you have put your house up for sale. Get a friend to call you at random times during the week and announce that she's a Realtor from Such-and-Such Realty, and she'd like to show your house in an hour. Then go into a cleaning frenzy unrivaled even by that inspired by a visit from your mom (especially since you've had the excuse that your mom will understand because you just had a baby...um, 6 years ago).

Oh, this is such a fun aspect of our lives these days. We're trying to keep things cleanish on a regular basis, but The Call always seems to come just when we've let our guards down and the kids have toys scattered from one end of the house to the other and there's black stuff growing in the toilet (it happens in less than a week down here, I swear! And I don't know why) and the dishwasher's full but not yet run and the sink is also full, and we're hesitant to run the dishwasher because it's SO LOUD and we don't want to scare off the prospective buyers and the laundry is in multiple piles/baskets in the laundry room.

We've gotten pretty good at the "battle stations" routine -- Dave Swiffers the hardwood floor; I hit the bathrooms with toilet brush and sanitizing wipes (thank God for sanitizing wipes -- second only to the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser on my list of miracle cleaning products); I make beds; he picks up toys and opens shades and turns on lights all over the house and lowers the air conditioning a couple of degrees. I clean the kitchen counters; he gets the kitchen floors. I vacuum; he scoops the cat litter and lights scented candles.

And then we sit and wait and get our hopes up. I tell you, the closest feeling to that of waiting for a looker to come to our house is the ones I experienced when I was 15 or 16 and was sitting waiting for a date to show up. Butterflies in the stomach. Wondering if this connection will be "the one." And then, sometimes, they don't show up during the window in which they said they'd arrive. And you wait a little longer, and wonder if maybe they're just running late. And you keep your high heels and makeup on -- er, you keep the candles lit and lights on and shades open, and wait some more, until finally you realize they're not coming. You've been stood up again. And you wonder what went wrong. What didn't they like about you, and couldn't they have had the courtesty and call and tell you what happened? You'd be forgiving and understanding; really, you would. Honestly, it's exactly the same feeling -- except with house selling, there's a lot more money involved.

Time to straighten the office (always the last room to get "the treatment"). Wish us luck -- again. They're be here in 47 minutes -- or so they say.

posted by Jennifer Morgan, at 11:58 AM