loathe, despise, and abominate

Here I am, sitting in my perfectly clean home, waiting for people to come to our open house. Unfortunately I am the only person here, which doesn't make for very good sales. This whole house-selling thing is pretty discouraging. I am *so* tired of people walking around exclaiming about how adorable, charming, and cute the house is--just buy the house if you like it so much!!! Of course, shouting in frustration at over-enthused potential-buyers doesn't make for good sales either. It's a good thing I'm such a controlled person. (choke)

I just don't get why some people even come to our open house. We have small little place--perfect for someone who's just starting out. A little house that has three bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, dining room, kitchen and den. Just the other week, a family with about 45 small children rushed up the deck steps, and swarmed in through the front door. The over-weight, frazzled mom tells me they're looking for a bigger place. Um. What were you living in before? A tent? Does this look like a bigger place to you?!

Believe you me lady, you do NOT want a house with only one bathroom when you have that many kids...been there, done that. As the oldest of 8, I can stand and testify that our having one bathroom was probably the sole cause of 99% the fights we had as children. Standing outside the bathroom door for 20 minutes when you have to go bad does not leave you feeling very loving toward the person occupying the bathroom. There were certainly no restful bathroom breaks...just when you thought you might actually get away with one, someone would pound on the door and insist that they would die if you didn't let them use it pronto.

And privacy? What was that?! You'd think that being one of 8 would've formed me into a not-so private person...but just the opposite was true. I would've given just about anything to be able to take one shower, JUST ONE, without someone barging in while yelling that they had to go. Arg. I probably spent more time scrunched down into a tight little ball (we had glass shower doors), than I did showering. The time that was spent showering was done in such a rush, so as to finish before the last bit of the hot water ran out, that it was not enjoyable. And oh ya, it would run out. There is nothing worse than only having your hair half washed, and being unable to get the water any warmer than ice cubes.

I do *not* miss that house one iota. When we finally moved, our new house had four bathrooms. FOUR BATHROOMS. We practically didn't know what to do at first. We were so used to forming a line to the bathroom after outings, that we had to be reminded that there were 3 other empty ones available to the fastest, or the one with the most leverage over the the others.

Hmm...I got sidetracked. I was originally talking about Open houses and how much I loathe them. Maybe it's just the whole house-selling thing that I dislike. Last week this shrill little old lady called me on the phone and wanted the weirdest details about my house. After measuring the depth and width of our window sills for her (saying 'they're just normal small sills' wasn't good enough for her), I began to wonder if she had maybe escaped from the local looney bin. Seeing as I didn't adequately describe things for her, she decided that she'd just have to come to the open house. And I sure could tell which one she was, because she looked exactly like she sounded...scary stuff.

Maybe we should start giving away beer to anyone who comes in...or highly illegal drugs...chocolate? Anything to get more traffic and sell this place!!