I am sitting here in my immaculate, beautiful home. I am waiting. Waiting for the hoards of potential tenants coming to view the splendor of a super clean, charming Victorian. We have worked hard over the past week, organized drawers, updated the kitchen hardware, cleaned out the linen closets, the medicine cabinets, shampooed the carpets and spayed Windex on the mirrors. There is a cheerful bouquet of peach roses on my coffee table, and the toys are put neatly away in the boys bedrooms. Now this is home. I feel proud of this place. I wonder why the heck didn't I do this before?
Here is the problem. It isn't like Field of Dreams. "If you build it they will come". I've built it, my house has never looked so amazing....but nobody is coming. Not a soul. The open house will be over in exactly 40 minutes. I am contemplating running to 38th street with a sandwich board advertising "RENT OUR HOME!!", but I don't have any poster board.
I am panicking at the thought of paying our ridiculous California rent and carrying our mortgage for God only knows how long. I invision our "cushion" getting eaten away, and ending up on a budget that leaves little room for anything other than ramon noodles and Yellow Tail. (Does anyone actually like Yellow Tail?).
Where oh where are my hoards of people? For God's sake-the boys will be home soon, and the house will be pulled apart, the counters will be dirtied, the toys will be pulled back out, the clutter will begin again, and my flowers will die. Then I'll have to start all over again.