My Turn

Mike gets so frustrated with me before house showings.  I admit, I’m a teeny, tiny bit extreme when it comes to prepping the house.  I prefer to go all out; flowers, cookies, hiding the cat food (and cat if possible), then stalk the potential buyers as they arrive.

Before Sunday’s open house, Mike got pretty annoyed with my habits and asked what my deal was.  He had trees to cut and beer to drink. 

 

I explained that if the house looked perfect, it might faster and we can move to the country that much sooner.  Logical, right?  What I didn’t tell him, was that one of the biggest reasons I want this house sold is for him…

 

And her…

 

And her…

 

 

But mostly, for him.

 

 

Through blood, sweat and more cursing than normal, Mike tore the house apart…for us.  I hate to think how much beer it took to get it done, but he did it.  I wasn’t much help as I kept busy keeping the kids from murdering each other, providing clean clothes and food as well as growing/nursing a baby.   They were some tough years… however, I did manage to rip all the carpet out of the house using an Exacto knife on a Friday while Mike was at work, but that’s another story.

So, now I see this as my turn.  I want him to have his dream.  And his dream lies in 20 acres of woods... the same woods he grew up in. 

 

 

 

So to me,  it’s worth every can of Pledge, each baked cookie, wiping skid marks out of the toilet, polishing the stainless steel until it shines, basically whatever it takes to get this place show-worthy before each showing….  I’m a fighter.

 

Don’t mess with me.