Scrubbing floors, the new yoga
November 12, 2006
We our having an appraisal done on our house tomorrow so we can refinance and have some money freed up for a new kitchen. One with an oven big enough to fit my favorite baking dish in. And a sink that isn’t harvest gold. And a floor that isn’t cracked white vinyl.
It is nerve wracking to have an appraisal done.
So in preparation I have been cleaning the house like a crazed woman. Every single room has been cleaned, washed, polished, straightened. My thinking is that the appraiser will be so distracted by the gleaming surfaces, or else rendered slightly brain dead from the bleach fumes, to notice things like bare sheetrock, cracked plaster, and missing trim.
“Oh but look, there are no dust bunnies in the corners! I’ll tack on another 50K to my estimate for that,” he will say.
In preparation Rob has been doing what he feels is important. Namely sweep out the basement and organize all his tools. His thinking, I assume, is that the appraiser will be distracted by his stellar tool organization.
“Oh look at all those expensive power tools, surely they will finish those undone projects one day soon. I’ll tack 50K on my estimate just for owning them!” he will say.
As for my children, their idea of preparing is to spread all their toys throughout the house. Maybe the appraiser will be so busy looking down at the floor trying not to trip over toys that he will fail to notice the numerous projects that still need to be completed.
“Damn these people have a lot of kids. Let me tack 50K onto my estimate out of pity,” he will say.
One of these approaches has to work. I hate to think that I will forever be spending my days in a kitchen so ugly that it makes me want to cry.
I wore these shoes all weekend long.
No nonsense, get work done, ugly but comfortable Land’s End summer mocs, or something like that. And I also wore my yoga pants all weekend too. I have three pair of yoga pants and have never once in my life done yoga. I feel like such a poser.
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