We’re Coming Over in Five Minutes

Today a realtor was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by with her clients to see our home.   She was five minutes away.   I wasn’t home but my husband was soaking his foot.   Now, I realize we don’t have to accommodate everyone, but when you want to sell your house, you do.  My bra was hanging over the door knob, aluminum foil was covering the couch to keep the cat from climbing onto it, there were clothes on the bed, shoes all over the floor, a bucket and a bag of salt, next to boots in the lower entry way, shovels and an ice chopper leaning against the front of the house, not to mention icy steps, which we didn’t even know were icy until later.   The Gods of Pain and Suffering spared us from anyone slipping and falling.  My husband had just enough time to empty the foot bath and passed the potential buyers going down the driveway as they were coming up.   This is only the preamble to an offer, negotiation and inspection issues.  I can only dread what lies ahead whether or not we can sell the house.   We are  “locked towards the future.”