So, we’ve bitten the bullet and listed our house for sale. Whew! What an ordeal. Signing the paperwork was mere child’s play compared to what went before the big day. For the last several months we’ve been selling off possessions that we know we’re not going to need moving forward. Craigslist helped us divest ourselves of: a woman’s bicycle; two sets of golf clubs with various accessories; a guest bedroom set; a stereo amplifier and a DVD player; and a 20-year old Nikon film camera and accessories.
Then came the “cleanup.” We had the house power washed and the deck stained. I replaced the six, sagging front steps I had previously replaced with Trex. This time, I did it right, and used solid wood steps. They, of course, had to be stained (as did the front porch, which they led up to). The kitchen had to be painted—my job, of course. Oh, and then there was the storage room. Man, oh man, was there a lot of junk in there! Ten years of income tax returns and supporting documents had to be shredded. It took me four hours to do, and I filled five humongous black trash bags with the little diced pieces of paper.
Our first showing was scheduled for this past Monday, but they canceled at the last minute because our house was “too far” from Hendersonville proper. Today is our first “official” showing, that is if they don’t cancel, too. The weatherman has not been very cooperative, and the French Broad River is threatening to turn our little community into an island. The photographer was due here a half hour ago to take pictures, hasn’t called, and God only knows where he is.
We’re trying to decide whether to go to the movies, or Walmart, while the realtor shows our house today. Or, we just might park our car down the block and watch the action from there.
Selling a house is never easy, but it sure is fun (almost as much fun as sitting in a bathtub filled with fire ants). Oh oh, there’s the doorbell. Must be the photographer . . . (to be continued).