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We’re selling our house. We’ve lived here for a mere seven years, yet the clutter, it surrounds us. We’ve been planning this move for a year. Well, not this particular move, per se, but A Move. Somewhere. The house is painted inside and out, we’ve taken down “bad” art, stickers and posters on the walls and mirrors and put up “good” art. I’ve taken loads to Goodwill, thrown out a lot, boxed things up and given them away to friends or stashed them in the attic and still… The Clutter. What does it want? Why can’t I tame it?

Also, there are dried cornstalks upright in my garden, potato vines (complete with potatoes, under cover) and a ton of pumpkins. I see this as an asset, along with the raspberries, blueberries, hydrangeas and honeysuckle. The day lilies, the lilies of the valley, the hazelnut, Douglas fir, and cedar tree. The fuchsias. You should see my yard, you’d love it. You’d want to buy my house just for the yard, it’s that pretty. We have a fairy garden, heather and boxwoods. I am grieving more over leaving the garden than I am about leaving the house. It’s like a retreat in the summer, it’s lovely.

Still, the weeds, though I am a faithful gardener, are out of hand. In spite of that, I was feeling pretty good about our house. Until a realtor came over.

* “You need to tidy up this whole yard, and weed. And prune everything back.” Yes, where I saw beautiful Roses of Sharon bushes that frame the window and keep the dining room cool on hot summer days, she sees bushes that need to be pruned by half. Half! Do you know how long it took those tree/shrubs to grow after their last prune? Yes, that’s right. Six years. We pruned them when we first moved in. Overzealous idiots.

* Where I see a messy, cluttered basement, she sees no problem. “It’s just a basement,” she told me.

* Where I see a kitchen that was formerly a “bad seventies” remodel, complete with electric stove, a dropped ceiling, and ugly, hideous soffits, I now see a nice kitchen with a gas stove, (fairly) fresh paint, a dishwasher that works, a suspended pot rack and butcher block, and no wallpaper border of country cottages. She says, “The kitchen is a negative.” I say, “You shoulda seen it before.”

* Where I see a clawfoot tub and storage space, she sees, “The upstairs bathroom is a negative.”

* Where I see (two full bathrooms! Spectacular!) the other bathroom, with remodeled tile shower, tile floor, storage space, she sees, nothing, apparently, because she walked in, walked out, no comment. Was the toilet paper hanging the wrong way?

* Where I see clutter, she sees “Genius at Work.” She says, “I’ll make you a sign and post it on your office door.” Genius! Ha.

* Where she sees, “The market is too squooshy right now, good luck selling right away,” I see, “We can walk to everything, including the train, several coffee houses and restaurants, the theater, the library, the grocery store, school, and the parks. And the house is one hundred years old this year! It’s vintage, for pete’s sake! It will sell itself!” She says, “I think you should hold off on making an offer on the other place.” (We have a house on the other side of town already picked out.)

* Where I see a trashed kid’s room, she sees a trashed kid’s room. Where I see a castle bed (my daughter’s) that some other little princess is going to fall in love with, she sees the same. (At least we saw eye to eye on the kids’ rooms, and the genius thing, but nothing else. She wasn’t the realtor we ended up going with.)

Have you ever sold a place? What were some things you did to spruce it up for sale? If you really loved your house, how did you detach? (Good thing I won’t be showing it myself.) Please advise, dear Internet.

by Wacky Mommy

[tags]home, house, real estate, realtor, improvement, care, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, mess, foliage, flora, flowers, bushes, trees[/tags]
Photo graciously provided by CaptPiper, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved