It has begun: our house is getting prepped to go on the market. Our real estate geniuses came over this afternoon for a final walk-through and handed me a list of things that need to disappear or relocate before they take pretty pictures.
They were both very nice about it and considerate of my feelings but I’m not sure anything can prepare a woman for someone coming into her home and redecorating it. The challenge, you see, is that staging a home (that is, preparing it for the multitudes of real estate-hungry buyers eager to find their next house) is different than living in a home.
When you decorate your house to live in it, you hope to imbue it with the essence of you and your family. You put up pictures, arrange knick-knacks where you’ll see them regularly, and make the house comfortable for you and yours.
Staging a home, however, is a different beast altogether. When you stage a home, you are doing so with the aim of enabling buyers to imagine themselves living there. You take down your photos, hide your more personal knick-knacks, and make your house as attractive as possible by essentially turning into a blank canvas on which potential buyers can imagine painting their lives (Wes made pina coladas earlier, which may explain my fruity eloquence. Also, it might explain my trouble with typing the word “coladas”.)
So, what it essentially boils down to is our real estate agents came over today and did their jobs well and now I’m mopey because I had to strip my kitchen counters and now my knives are in the cabinet above the refrigerator, my Kitchen Aid mixer is in the upstairs linen closet, and my spice rack is sideways in the cereal cabinet.
I asked Wes how I was supposed to be able to cook for him when my spices were being held hostage by my generic-brand whole wheat honey O’s and he replied that I had probably better just make bland food for awhile. “Harumph!” said I, and then we ordered pizza.