Posted by: DD | June 19, 2006

No. 213 – For Sale

I finally staked a “For Sale” sign in our front yard yesterday. My goal was to have had this done April 1. Yeah, I get the irony of April’s Fool, but c’mon! two and a half months later is just stupid. So that means that our basement has finally been emptied (save the utilities room reeking of cat poo) and the carpet’s been cleaned.


Mr. DD was out enjoying his day and I figured since it finally had decided to stop raining for longer than 5 hours, I would mow the yard. I had barely made it once around the perimeter when I noticed a pickup drive slowly by the house. “Oh, good,” I thought, “Someone who might write down the phone number and call about the house.”


Not so.


Instead, they went around the block and pulled into the driveway. “Can we look through the house?” EEeeep! It was a damnable pigsty! X and I had been lazing around all day; and I hadn’t even cleaned up the kitchen from lunch. Just as I was getting ready to ask if they would prefer to schedule a time, I noticed the out of town plates. If I let the fish go now, they may never come back. I should have been thinking if I let the fish see my fucking pit, they will never come back.


I quickly walked the couple through the house, taking mental note of the plates still on the counter; the dried mud on the kitchen floor; the toilet lids in the “male” position; my bra lying on the unmade bed; and the laundry room’s propensity to look as if it had just projectile vomited tread-marked underwear (his!) everywhere. When I told them the list price, I could have sworn I heard her say, “Yeah, right!” even though her lips didn’t even move. They left with an inquiry about the availability of the phone number on the sign. I’m sure it was a polite way of making me think they were still interested.


I should have excused the mess by telling them we had staged the house for a mock meth-lab for some police training. Especially when I remembered what I happened to be wearing in preparation of an hour or so mowing: a tank top that kept riding up and a pair of too short shorts and my grass-stained tennis. I couldn’t have looked more "white-trash" if I had tried. X seemed to fit the part as well when he tagged along for the tour wearing a chocolate stained hand towel as a shirt and a Ho-Ho goatee.



  1. LOL! You are so damn funny. See, now they will drive their friends by (“Want to see something funny? Look how much this chick is asking for her house!”) and it will be immaculate! They will be in awe! They will look it up on line, swear it wasn’t the same house, and purchase it immediately. 😉

  2. All I can say is I hope it gets better. A child so young should be so chocolate hirsute.

  3. I would rather see a house in that state than one that is cleaned up all show-like. See, then I could visualize what it would look like once we “moved in”.

  4. See, now this way they can get an idea of how it will be with that ‘lived in’ look, as opposed to decorator magazine perfect. I mean, come on, that description is everybody’s house and now they can really see themselves in it.

  5. Now, if only X were still in diapers, you could have completed the white trash look with a saggy diaper. Like we do at our house.

  6. Wow – your a lot braver than I am. I don’t know if I could/would have let them in with no warning. Though in all honestly, they probably weren’t looking with as much of a critical eye as you were.

  7. I was shocked when I was selling my house by how many people just drove up and knocked on the door! I was constantly telling them “excuse the mess”. I hated that and I swear not one of them was serious.

  8. Oh DD you make me laugh.

    When my mom put my childhood home up for sale a V E R Y pushy realtor came in with a family. My beloved dog Bear, a big red shaggy mutt with green eyes, a big butt, and not tail (hence the name), bared his teeth and chased them away. My brothers and I cheered.

    But then Bear was sent to my uncle’s house until the house sold. 😦

    Good luck with this.

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