Welcome to the Mouse House

Sundays are Open House days.  It was a hot summer.  Even getting out of the car to put out signs got me all sweaty and wrinkled.  Let’s start with that...have you even driven by a Realtor on some corner, wrestling with putting a wire post sign into the ground?  You always feel sorry for them.  Cars whizzing by.  Drivers all pissed off that you’re parked by the corner and they have to go around you.  It’s just no fun.  And that’s how Open House days start.  The opposite of glamorous.  And those are easy days.  When you have a neighbor come out of their house and tell you that you need to move your sign, that they don't want it by "their" stop sign, that's a bonus. They don’t show this part on HGTV.

On this particular Sunday the Open House I had scheduled was at a vacant listing.  Always a strange cross between creepy and boring.  When I’m in vacant Open Houses, I always think of Annette Bening in American Beauty.  Talking to herself and practicing her script in a vacant, dusty house.  When I got to the house this particular Sunday, I realize there’s central air, THANK GOD. Once it’s on I go around the house turning all the lights on.  I start upstairs, and work my way down to the finished basement.  I’m in the basement, looking for light switches and I hear someone at the door.  Dammit.

Photo credit: American Beauty

So I sprint upstairs (in my heels) to find a couple already in the kitchen.  Trying to collect myself, I stick out my hand and say “hi, I’m Rebecca”.  “We’re early, we know, we need to be somewhere soon so we figured we’d just come in”.  Of course you did.  Posted hours are just, sort of...a guide.  NOT.  “Of course” I say, “I’m here so come on in, I was just putting lights on.”  I get only half way through my spiel about the house and there’s more people at the door.

This is how it goes. Some weeks, there’s a line of people at the door before you start.  Some weeks you sit there, alone, eating your candy and talking to yourself, wondering whose stupid idea this Open House was anyway.

I'm a little off my game already, having been interrupted during my "open house prep" ritual.  I'm listening to a couple in the other room, talking about the yard, and the first couple comes up out of the basement.  "Do you have any questions?  Or feedback for the seller?"  I ask.  "You know about the dead mouse, right?"  What.the.f*ck.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I show EXACTLY what I'm thinking in my facial expressions.  You WANT to play poker with me.  You will win. I'm sure the face I was making was not a pleasant one.

But I choke out "Oh my goodness, no, I'm sorry.  I'll take care of it.  Thank you."  Translation?  They are not interested in the house.  Nor are the other two couples who have just come up from the basement.  But I have to wait until they all leave to go down and see what I'm up against.

Remember, this is a VACANT house.  SWEET JESUS.  There is literally nothing here.  Not a broom, not a dust pan, not a lone piece of cardboard.  So I'm rummaging around the house, opening every cupboard, and I finally find a tiny Pringles can. It had a bunch of odd nails, and hanging things in it.  And it has the cover on it!!! SCORE!!

I take it down to the basement, to the one spot I didn't see, because that first couple came early...and there he is.  Dust all in his tail, tiny legs stiff and stuck out.  Nice.  They do not show this on HGTV either.  Ever.

photo credit: Rebecca, holding her nose

So I take the cover of the can, I push him inside, and I go out into the 110 degree heat to throw him in his new Pringles coffin, into the garbage can, extremely grateful that the basement was cool and it didn't smell.  

I love what I do.  I say it all the time.  But I can assure you, it's not glamorous, and the more you can go with the flow and not get flustered, the better real estate agent you can be.