Designed to Sell

Just like the HGTV show where people scramble to make all the last-minute modifications to their home they can before putting it on the market, that’s what Marci and I have been up to the last two days. On the show, they have this woman who walks through seller’s homes, insults their stuff, ridicules their taste or slovenly habits, and hopefully encourages them to get it together before potential buyers walk in. We didn’t have the luxury of paying someone to verbally abuse us, so we had to be our own hostile audience.

We mentioned to our realtor (who definitely has a Geena Davis ala Accidental Tourist affect, only younger) that we’d be all set by this Friday for showings; however, she called yesterday about a couple who wanted to check the place out today at 1pm. The place has been on the market less than 1 day, so we were excited to get a showing so quickly. The downside was that Sunday night was spent putting in a new bathroom vanity and sink, installing a light fixture, putting in new base molding, sprucing the yard, painting, buying some houseplants, caulking seams, and cleaning the deck. Also, the cats Caesar and Lulu are kind of nuts about dashing outside, so we bought a big cage for them. Our last house sold (we’re convinced) because we’re pretty good at setting up a mellow vibe for showings: candles, Nora Jones CD playing softly in the background, etc. Sometimes I give our coffee mill a crank on the way out since most people subconsciously dig the aroma. I think it’s also good advice to hide all personal photos, too. I could probably do a separate post on how dumb most family photos look hanging all over a house anyway; it’s particularly true when you’re trying to unload a place.

Geena Davis arrived a bit before the house shoppers, so Marci and I just went a few blocks over to a local ice cream place for a couple milkshakes (since it's 96 degrees here). If we have shakes every time someone wants to see the house, though, our asses eventually won’t fit through the door.
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On the last ultrasound (the schpancy 4D version at 21 weeks), they apparently didn’t get every image of The Peanut’s heart that they wanted, so we’re going in again on the 25th. We’re pretty excited about this visit, since we didn’t think we’d be having another official US, though we considered going to another place that does them (in a mall, believe it or not) and just paying for it. This “bonus” image will be at 24 weeks. We have a pretty sizable photo album already, and the Little Man hasn’t even gotten himself born yet.

It struck me recently how pregnancy amounts to entering some larger human family where people regularly ask how you’re doing, and make observations concerning your appearance and progress in ways that don’t happen in a non-pregnant state. People seem supportive, interested, and enthusiastic about it all, particularly people who already have kids. A chemistry professor I work with told me a couple weeks ago “you have no idea how much your own parents love you until you have your own kid; in fact, you won’t believe they love you that much.” He’s not a particularly sentimental guy; he was just making an observation, like the scientist that he is.

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Greg was victorious on his local 5K once again on Saturday—three years in a row now (see his link in a previous post). He had Marci, me, and some friends over afterward for some (well!) grilled meat and beer, which was all excellent and a lot of fun. Actually, there were a total of three pregnant women present, so I was sorry that I didn’t bring the Doppler. I probably could have incorporated it into some sort of drinking game.