Domestic Diva

One thing I can say about having our house on the market is that it has never looked cleaner. Every time we prepare to leave the house, I run around wiping down sinks, making beds, picking up toys, straightening pillows, putting away dishes, hiding dog bowls, recycling newspapers, and doing any number of other necessary tasks.

One thing I can say about being a great housekeeper is that it sucks. I'm not cut out for immaculance. (To the best of my knowledge, I just made up that word. Let's start using it and get it added to the lexicon.)

Update on the House

Well, the housing market died right when we listed our house. Maybe that thunderstorm was an omen...

And since I am so superstitious, I have been resisting the urge to disinter St. Joseph. The-who-what-now, you ask?

Yes, you see, supposedly burying a statue of St. Joseph will make your home sell faster. You can buy St. Joseph House-Selling kits, which I did several years ago when I was selling my condo. It's hard to say if St. Joseph or a robust market was more responsible for the sale, but I'm not one to ask questions.

That particular St. Joseph was subsequently dug up and had been hanging out on a shelf in Elias's room until a couple weeks ago when I buried him upside-down in the vegetable garden next to the playhouse. Then I read an article about it on Snopes (it's hilarious, by the way) and decided St. Joseph might perfer a different position. So I unearthed him and put him horizontal but face-down in the same location. Now I worry that someone will come make an offer on the playhouse but not the rest of our property, so I'm toying with the idea of putting him in the front yard.

But I realize I can't rely on a plastic saint to sell my house (especially when I'm not Catholic--I figure he might hold that against me), so we have also lowered our asking price and have held several open houses. We do have a few people who seem interested and another open house this weekend. In the meantime, we wait...

Reality Sets In

Our house is officially on the market. There's a sign in our yard. There's a listing realtor.com. There's an open house tomorrow. There's no turning back now.

Our realtor came over the other day so we could sign the papers. The moment she arrived at the door, the skies spewed forth a torrent of rain and cacophony of thunder. Thunderstorms are extremely rare in Southern California and absolutely unheard of in July. A superstitious person might have considered that an omen.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm totally superstitious, and I did take it as an omen, but as a good one. We all thought the storm was pretty cool. If I needed any reassurance, when it had passed a lovely little rainbow appeared over the house.

(Sorry I didn't get a better shot. My camera has about 50 different scenery categories to choose from, but "rainbow at dusk" isn't one of them.)

Getting the house on the market allows us to cross off a huge item on our to-do list, but it's also the most emotional step we've taken.

I have moved a lot in my life. Not counting dorm rooms, I have called 13 different abodes home. Although I abhor the actual process of moving (packing, cleaning, loading, cleaning, unloading, unpacking, cleaning), I love being in new places. I'm always a little sad to leave an old dwelling, but mostly excited to get a new one.

It's different this time, though. I'm excited about our journey, of course, but leaving means more now. It's not just about me this time; it's about us. This is our first house, together, as a family. Elias was six weeks old when we bought it. This is the home Anna came home to after she was born. We had intentions of possibly staying here forever.

At the same time, I have never been one to plan too far ahead because life never works out exactly as you expected, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

In the long run, I don't think this is a decision we'll regret having made. Even so, it's hard to say good-bye.