Oh how foolish I was to think that I wanted to move house. Because it’s not just the moving, is it? You don’t pick a house, sell yours the following day then tele-port all your stuff a la Star Trek and get on with the painting and decorating, do you?
It’s all coming back to me now- the memories of our last move….how we ended up living in aB&B for three weeks, because the moving date kept getting put back and put back until the day our tenants moved in came and we had to leave the flat, put everything in storage and find a place to stay. At that point we didn’t even have a moving date so September stretched out before us interminably. I was applying for jobs without a fixed abode, which made me look like a pikey/illegal immigrant, and had to drop by the house that we were buying every couple of days to collect our mail, which had all been forwarded by our tenants to the address we hoped would be ours shortly. We spent a fortune on dry cleaning and eating out and were so broke when we moved in that we couldn’t afford paint. So why are we doing it all again?
I took DH last night to the house that I have fallen in love with. The very first house I looked at when DH suggested we might think about moving. Of course in the interim another house has come and gone (outbid) but this house is still there, still waiting for us. And it seems the feeling is mutual. When I spoke with DH earlier he was at the Mortgage Brokers talking telephone numbers. And I’m seriously considering a check-out job at Waitrose (a girl has standards) because with the staff discount, I could at least put food on the table.
The remaining problem (apart from whether I will be able to afford new clothes, shoes and accessories ever again) will be whether we sell this house. I had my first viewing yesterday and was left feeling quite underwhelmed by the whole thing as the viewer, whose arms I suspect were surgically attached to her body in a defensive crossed-arm fashion walked around sucking in air between her buck teeth and talking about how “you could just rip all this out and put in laminate flooring” (we have stripped floorboards), how “if you knocked it around a bit you could fit a shower cubicle in that bathroom” (we have a separate shower room), how “it just needs a bit of colour” (the house is beautifullydecorated in House-Doctor-friendly ‘neutrals’.) Suffice to say Crossed Arm Lady did not get back to us. But I have three more potential buyers to show round, so all is not lost.
Not lost, that is, assuming DH follows the rules. Having spent the best part of 24 hours madly cleaning, painting and decluttering last week so that the photos could be taken, I now have to keep the house looking picture-perfect for viewings. In principle this should be straight-forward, but because I don’t live alone, every day is a challenge. DH seems to think that clothes hang themselves, and WH is under the mistaken impression that she can bring things into the house of a decomposing nature. And she greets every viewer with such joy, she may put them off with her excited bouncing up and up and up. I am continually battling against a rising tide of clothing and shoes as they appear randomly around the house (helpfully redistributed by WH who likes shoes and underwear). The laundry still has to be done, not least because it is sunny and will dry quickly, meaning that I can get it outside, dried and shoved in the airing cupboard before viewers arrive. I’m at the point now where if I don’t get some of the ironing done (again, have to do it outside viewing hours) then everything will topple onto the next unsuspecting person who opens the door. And you know that they will. They see a door and don’t get told what’s behind it, they have to look. Shame it doesn’t lead to Narnia. And the cooking still has to be done, but I can’t cook anything that has a strong smell because it might linger. I can’t cook anything with colour because it might stain. I can’t cook anything that involves lots of pots and pans because they have to be washed up. I have to scoop up various glasses and cans and plates and cutlery and packets and crumbs from wherever DH has squirrelled illicit food to, I have to water the plants (which usually happens about once a month, if I remember) and air the rooms, wear a ribbon in my hair, smile as they criticise my lovely house and pray for a good price so that we can buy a house we can’t really afford.
I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll make it through this alive.
I wish you the best of luck with the potential buyers and the move. I know a little bit about moving house – having lived in 21 houses in my lifetime – I’m not a gypsy or anything, honest!
When we were selling our last house, I was pregnant and the longer the whole business dragged on the nearer I got to my due date. We actually moved in to our new house the day I came out of hospital. My poor husband was to-ing and fro-ing between two houses and the hospital for a week!!
You’ll come through it. It’s stressful isn’t it, I hope I’ll never have to move again! Just live in your house, make it homely and therefore appealing. If they criticise your house they obviously haven’t got your good taste so just feel sorry for them!
Crystal xx
It’s always nice to find reassurance from such lovely ladies!
Funkymunky- you get around!!! Actually we moved around a lot when I was growing up as my parents are in the Foreign Office, but it’s different when you have your own place. Have you lived anywhere exciting and exotic?
Crystal- thanks. You always know what to say!
Are you moving far from your current place? I often get the urge to move out to “the sticks” as my sister calls the countryside but then realise that I panic if I’m more than a mile from a Boots.
Good luck with the viewings! The prep is such a pain. I would have to run around the house with a giant basket sweeping all of my junk into it and then locking it up in my car each day. I swear that is the only door potential buyers won’t open. You are so brave to be there during the walk throughs. People are so weird with all their nit picky comments. Good luck with the perma-smile!