The condo is still for sale.
I was very excited last week, to be able to tell you that we had sold it.
But it fell through.
Yes! Two sales falling through! What are the odds? As I have lamented to Darling Husband, “we have shitty luck in real estate.”
To make matters worse, we found out Sale #2 was falling through on Baby Boy’s birthday. Depression City, population: us.
And so our lives continue to be consumed with booking showings and answering phone calls and answering emails and rescheduling showings and booking last-minute showings. But mainly CLEANING FOR SHOWINGS.
I am so tired of our plans being cancelled at the last minute because someone wants to see the place RIGHTNOW, and we have to clean like mad. Of having to reschedule our plans because someone wants to see the place in three hours, and we need to clean first. Of having absolutely no idea when someone is going to call or email to book a showing, and turn everything upside down.
The thing about trying to sell your place is that you are always “trying.” You can’t turn down showings, because what is that person is “the one”? And so you show. And show. And show.
It is a beautiful Saturday — the kind of day where everyone on Facebook is buzzing about the gorgeous sun and warmth and blue sky — and we are stuck here, cleaning. We have a showing in just over an hour.
We are trying to deal with mounds of baby stuff, mounds of our own stuff. We have taken countless carloads of crap to store in my mom’s basement. Occasionally, we need to bring stuff back. It is an endless cycle of trying to move, hide and arrange our crap.
And the bloody CLEANING.
The CONSTANT cleaning.
Cleaning on a DEADLINE.
With a BABY UNDERFOOT.
This is very hard on our marriage.