Ken took his dream job last month. His first day was August 9th. He is now working for Wilson Financial Advisors. His dream job is in Salt Lake. Maybe that makes it all the more dreamy. Ken leaves Monday mornings around 5 and comes home Friday nights around 8. Kole and I run amok all week and then hurry and put the house back together Friday right before Ken gets home. No, that’s not true. That would be true under normal circumstances. But our circumstances are abnormal. We’ve got the house up for sale. Because one of these days we’re going to move to Salt Lake and quit all this silly commuting. Since the house is for sale it has to be ready for “showing” at the drop of a hat. Talk about pressure. I’m not a slob. I like a neat house. But I’m not a freak about it. If I miss loading the dishwasher one night- big whoop. If I leave my clothes on the floor- I won’t scold myself. Never have. But now- I can’t. When someone calls to see the house I normally have about an hour to get it ready and to leave. Ready. Ready as in sparkling. Ready as in I can see myself in the stovetop. Ready as in it smells like a summer meadow in here and not stinky diapers. If it was just me that’d be a piece of cake. A piece of crumb cake. But it’s not me. It’s me and Kole and Rusty. So it normally goes something like this.
I just get Kole down for a nap- after caving- and cuddling him to sleep. I scan the premises. Dirty dishes, dirty clothes, dirty diapers. Everywhere. I shrug. Nap time for everyone! Hip Hip Hooray!! Phone rings. It’s Ken. “Someone’s going to come look at the house at 4. You need to be out by 3:45.” I look at the clock. 3:00. I cry. I hang up with Ken and start cleaning up. Fast! Dishwasher done in record time. Grab the vacuum and do the couches and the carpets. Kole still sleeping. Windex the mirrors and coffee table. Brillo the stove. Done. Swiffer. Done. Sweep the steps. Did I roll up the hose after watering the grass? No. Roll up the hose. I grab a Hefty bag and grab all the garbages in the house. In my haste I forget about Kole’s sensitivity to cupboards slamming. I cringe. Kole cries. Maybe he’ll stop. Look at the clock. 3:35. 10 minutes. I better check downstairs. Ken’s bathroom is horrible! Run back upstairs. Grab the caddy, run downstairs, hold my breath, and scrub. 3:45. Kole is still crying and Rusty is barking. I imagine he is telling me the baby is crying. I get Rusty and load him in the back of the car. Yeah, I have to take him too. I go in to get Kole and lock him into his seat. Rusty is bouncing and barking as loud as he can. He thinks he is going somewhere fun. I’ll take you somewhere fun. It’s called the pound! We pull out at 3:52. Not bad.
One time I took the gang over to Tautphaus Park. Kole was sleeping. I was throwing the ball for Rusty-muggins. Kole woke up and started crying. It was time for him to eat. We couldn’t go back to the house yet. I couldn’t nurse him in the car… not with Rusty. I looked around and saw my salvation. A dugout. I guess that’s enough privacy. I tied Rusty up and grabbed a blanket to cover myself. A new low. I was nursing my baby in a dirty dugout. With my crazy dog trying to gnaw through his leash. I felt… homeless. With a stroller instead of a shopping cart.
Man, I need this house to sell.
I just get Kole down for a nap- after caving- and cuddling him to sleep. I scan the premises. Dirty dishes, dirty clothes, dirty diapers. Everywhere. I shrug. Nap time for everyone! Hip Hip Hooray!! Phone rings. It’s Ken. “Someone’s going to come look at the house at 4. You need to be out by 3:45.” I look at the clock. 3:00. I cry. I hang up with Ken and start cleaning up. Fast! Dishwasher done in record time. Grab the vacuum and do the couches and the carpets. Kole still sleeping. Windex the mirrors and coffee table. Brillo the stove. Done. Swiffer. Done. Sweep the steps. Did I roll up the hose after watering the grass? No. Roll up the hose. I grab a Hefty bag and grab all the garbages in the house. In my haste I forget about Kole’s sensitivity to cupboards slamming. I cringe. Kole cries. Maybe he’ll stop. Look at the clock. 3:35. 10 minutes. I better check downstairs. Ken’s bathroom is horrible! Run back upstairs. Grab the caddy, run downstairs, hold my breath, and scrub. 3:45. Kole is still crying and Rusty is barking. I imagine he is telling me the baby is crying. I get Rusty and load him in the back of the car. Yeah, I have to take him too. I go in to get Kole and lock him into his seat. Rusty is bouncing and barking as loud as he can. He thinks he is going somewhere fun. I’ll take you somewhere fun. It’s called the pound! We pull out at 3:52. Not bad.
One time I took the gang over to Tautphaus Park. Kole was sleeping. I was throwing the ball for Rusty-muggins. Kole woke up and started crying. It was time for him to eat. We couldn’t go back to the house yet. I couldn’t nurse him in the car… not with Rusty. I looked around and saw my salvation. A dugout. I guess that’s enough privacy. I tied Rusty up and grabbed a blanket to cover myself. A new low. I was nursing my baby in a dirty dugout. With my crazy dog trying to gnaw through his leash. I felt… homeless. With a stroller instead of a shopping cart.
Man, I need this house to sell.
6 comments:
I feel for you! Selling a house is SO stressful.
Jeez, that really sucks. I wish you could just move down there and get an apartment so that you actually see your hubs, and so that you don't have to scrub the house and be homeless while people look at it. Ugh. I don't ever want to have to sell. What a pain in the butt.
P.S. Just come over to my house any time you need to be out of yours. We'll tie Rusty up to my tree in the back and chat in my nice warm living room. Or we can go together to take Rusty to the pound. :)
I haven't found anyone moving to IF yet, but when I do I will send them right down! If you need to be out of your house for a LONG time...drive to my house! Even if it isn't being showed...you should drive to Egin and hang out with me! I would love it and my kids would fight over who gets to hold Kole first! If you come early enough before they get home, I might even get to hold him! I really mean it...you should come to my house!! And stay for dinner!!!
That really sounds like a pain in the butt. I am so sorry that you have to do that. I'm with Tif, come on up and we can spoil Kole a little bit and you can relax for a while.
Cracking up AGAIN. Poor Patty. I wish I was there to help you. Rusty is my favorite part of these stories. "the thorn in your side"
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