Oh my goodness. Last weekend was crazy. It all started with a realtor who brought clients to see our house not during her scheduled appointment time. (Background: house showings are scheduled in one hour increments through a centralized showing company. This allows us time to prepare, leave the house with the dogs during that one hour, and come home hopefully to a contract? Yeah, not yet.)
Saturday, this particular showing went down like this: we received an appointment notice, cleaned like crazed people, vacuumed, turned on all the lights so the house looked its best, removed the third floor barricade (dogs aren’t allowed up there since I shampooed the carpet), left the house at our appointed time and walked the dogs in 100 degree temperatures finally crashing at neighbor Harry’s house. Thank you, Harry!
At the end of our scheduled hour, we went home, turned off the lights, barricaded the third floor, turned off the pool fountains, armed the house alarm and left for lunch. It was 2:00. Fish tacos were calling my name.
Thirty minutes later, the realtor showed up well past her appointment. She set off the alarm and the dogs who went nuts (rightfully so). The showing company called to let us know our alarm was going off. No joke. That’s how it works. We rushed home. The realtor and her clients seemed unfazed by the fiasco but of course the house was dark, the third floor was barricaded, the dogs were crazy, the whole thing ridiculous.
Not an ideal house touring scenario.
The next day at our open house, someone took my prescription medication right out of the zippered case inside my bathroom cabinet.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Talking Heads, Wild, Wild Life