That's because I have been working like a dog, actually, not like a dog, because frankly most dogs just lie around panting all day. I have been working like a short-order cook in a busy restaurant, trying to get our house ready to sell. Why? So we can move to France next year.
I have not been in this alone; my husband is also working hard, and he has a number of jobs to do that I cannot, which leaves me to tackle things that are within my ability.
My biggest job has been painting every room in the house.
For weeks now I've been telling my friends that I'm busy painting the rooms in our house. I'm sure they are thinking, how long can that take? It's a small house.
Just let me say that it's a much more complicated process when preparing to move.
Last week, I finished our bedroom and the hallway, which completes every room.
Painting each room required multiple steps. For example, in our bedroom, the first step was winnowing belongings and packing up others. Since we moved here, I've had a lingerie chest in the corner of the room. And it held my lingerie along with running clothes and socks.
I had to get rid of some clothes in my main chest of drawers so that I could combine the belongings from the lingerie chest. I also stored winter clothes and donated a bunch of things that I don't wear regularly.
A nearby neighbor took the lingerie chest off my hands -- she paints furniture -- and I moved my chest of drawers into the other upstairs bedroom where we are shifting for the sale of the house.
The next day, I moved our bed into the new room. I did need help from my son and my husband at different points to get the bed put back together. Then, of course, I had to wash the sheets, make the bed.
But the real work came in the old room as I sorted through the boxes and storage bins that had hidden under the bed. Come on, I'm not the only one who just runs a dust mop or vacuum under the bed occasionally and then is shocked at the amount of dust under there.
Once I'd figured out where all of that stuff needed to go, then I had to clean. Sweeping with the broom first and then mopping.
The only item remaining in the bedroom was my husband's chest of drawers. I moved that into the middle of the room and figured I'd cover it while I painted. I can't move it into the other bedroom yet because there's a desk that needs to be moved out and into this room.
Exhausted, I shut the door on another day of not painting.
Each room has been equally intense, as I put away items we plan to keep and make runs to Goodwill with the things we are giving away. Even giving things to Goodwill isn't as simple as it should be because I have to make a list of everything so that we can take it off our taxes.
In addition, I've been teaching two classes and starting next week I'll have three classes.
Spencer, who is living at home since college graduation while he saves up a nest egg, asked last week if I was not going to go to the grocery store again until we moved.
We have all the basics, I explained. Milk, eggs, bread. "What do you want that we don't have?" I asked.
"Cream horns," he said.
You know those quasi pastries that look like a long shell filled with cream. And it's not even good cream. Since I've come home from France, spoiled by those delicious coffee eclairs, nothing else is tempting.
A couple who used to live in the neighborhood reached out to us. They want to move back. Would we show them our house even though it wasn't ready to go on the market?
That took two full days of cleaning the main rooms so we could walk them through it. My husband and children did not appreciate my suggestions that they eat outside, but I threatened them if they took any food out of the kitchen or even thought about cooking.
The couple ended up not taking our house, but I thought I'd show you the fruits of my labors.
|Some glares from the lights and windows, but you can see our Shaker-style cabinets, black granite counters and porcelain tile floors.|
|Here's a view of the other side of the kitchen.|
|Here's a shot of the dining room and living room. The walls have been removed between each room.|
|And here's a shot straight into the light of the living room.|
|Here's our former bedroom, now turned into an office. I opened the shutters|
and I'm looking into the treetops as I write this post.
I had hoped to have the house on the market next weekend. The painter is coming to finish the trim outside.
The bathroom guy is coming to regrout our white subway tiles. Then more bathtub guys arrive on Thursday to reglaze the white cast-iron tub. Everything should be ready by next Saturday, if I just buckle down and clean some more.
Wish me luck.