open house

It has been one of those day, you know. After the realtor took the photos for the website, he casually informed us that we already had our first cabs of the rank, as far as tire kickers and beard pullers go; "6:30pm". "Gee thanks", I replied. It looks like evening showings are going to be the norm; everyone works around here, so I guess they have to come after work or risk leaving it until the weekend, when the place might (HAHAHAHA) already be sold.

As soon as the realtor put the sign up, we had people on the prowl, doing the drive-by, rubber neck style. One couple even parked next door in the car park, got out and cased the joint; peering over the fence and what not. I was making dinner at the time, and it was most disconcerting to have a couple of strangers grinning at me through the kitchen window (now I know how the gorillas at the zoo must feel). I must say, it was a bit exciting to see people interested in the house, but then again, they were probably just sticky beaks agog that the place is on the market so soon. The neighbours have been awfully friendly all of a sudden, coming out for a chin wag and a pry...even got asked to Saturday lunch...that NEVER happens. Boy, am I an old synyc today!

Anyway, after the realtor's look-see at 10am, we had three appointments lined up:6pm, 6:30pm and 7:30 pm. Dinner was screwed. We ended up ordering a pizza and eating it in the park, then letting the kids play in the playground. It was a huge novelty for them.

It would have been great to be able to go to a restaurant and have a nice dinner, but we had the dogs with us. They are quite unbearable to most people- they yap and howl and jump up on people's legs; tearing stockings and planting muddy foot prints on pristine white slacks - no manners whatsoever - so we have to take them away when prospective buyers are on the scene.

Not only the dogs are we carting around town, but also the smelly old dog bedding, as they camp out on the floor of our room. We also have our portable microwave on the front seat. Oh, you didn't know you could get portable microwaves - you can't. We have two microwaves. We bought a cheapie when we moved into a friends house for the month prior to moving into this house. This friend had no mod-cons whatsoever, even his kettle was of the heat on the stove variety. Anyway, when we moved into the house, we found the built-in microwave to be lacking a handle, and of course, that particular size was no longer made by anyone, anywhere in the world. The only way to open the darn thing was to jimmy it open with a steel ruler....no thanks, so the cheapo microwave stayed and took up precious bench space, thus, it must be removed during showings.

Last week, Ashley had a brain wave and took a handle off one of our old cupboard doors and managed to cut up a white light switch surround, and somehow managed to secured the handle good and tight. The microwave opens now, but I am too afraid to use it in case the thing blows up or something equally ironic, and we will have to replace it anyway - at $500...no thanks. So the cheapo, counter hogging microwave, which I quite prefer by the way, stays, and these days gets to go on trips every so often (dear me).

Tonight's three showings went well apparently, though no one made an offer. We have another group coming at 6pm tomorrow. That means we have to stay away from the house all day again - the kids can't make a mess if we aren't there.

We did have a reasonably good day out today though. I had to go into the next town to pick up some shoes, which didn't happen (oh well). Afterwards, I promised to take the kids to the park. The kids played there for about 90 minutes, before we headed off for a walk through the gardens. Mister chucked an enormous hissy fit after playing the entire day and insisted upon sprinting around the 400 metre running track they have alongside the park. He was determined to run the entire 400 metres in lane 5 (because he is 5), and he insisted that missy mopps and I run too, in our own lanes. Missy mopps was tuckered out and wanted to be carried and to be honest, I really couldn't be stuffed, but because we didn't play the game, he chucked a monumental wobbly. Then another after I convinced him that we would just watch him run the final 100 by himself, during which he confused the track lines and veered out of his lane. He was insisting he start the race over again (for about the fifth time) when I managed to lead him to the car, screaming, but not kicking, where more wailing and gnashing of teeth occurred amidst laughable claims that he was "not tired". "suuuUUUuuure!"

Needless to say, it has been a long day - for us all.