Reasons not to be home

Showings are like your annual physical.  Chances are, you haven't lived as you ought and now someone's going to judge you.

Days after our house went on sale, a recognizable pattern emerged, one I faintly remembered from selling our house in Victoria seventeen years ago:  the stress of continually cleaning and clearing out, while packing and dealing with the ordinary everyday chores that don't go away simply because your life is in upheaval.

Seventeen years ago, I was doing this mostly on my own in Victoria while the Resident Fan Boy was starting his job in Hades, usually getting a few hours' notice before potential buyers showed up, scooping up an eight-year-old and four-year-old and heading out.

These days, I have one young adult daughter on the autistic spectrum and an elderly dog to get out of the house, but the internet means I get at least twelve hours' notice.  The downside is that I can't go downtown or into most shops or restaurants because of the dog.  The weather has been kind.

However, some agents show up early, assuming I'll, of course, be out at work.  This means leaving in a hurry while the prospective buyer waits outside, an awkward situation which sometimes has me struggling to hang on to the precepts of my "angel cards" which happened to include "enlightenment" the day I run into one of the McKenzie brothers on my front walk.

Enlightened people don't think dark and nasty thoughts about such people who have shown up five minutes ahead of the scheduled viewing time, while one attempts to marshal said dog and said daughter, both of whom have already been hustled out earlier in the day by another agent who showed up ten minutes early.

Enlightened people don't think ill of anybody - even a cheerfully loud man who asks questions in the third person while one is standing there, even after one has already answered his question about the roof:  "Beauty!"  (Yes, he really says that.)  "Did they give up their parking in order to have the deck?"

His large, brilliantly white SUV-type truck is squeezed next to the curb, and still taking up much of the lane.  I pass it as I head down to the coffee shop to take up vigil with the dog, sending younger daughter in to buy a drink, while I wonder why on earth such a person is looking for a house in an urban neighbourhood when everything about him screams "Suburbs!!!"

Enlightened people don't think that way.  An enlightened person would give him the benefit of the doubt.  An enlightened person wouldn't worry about subjecting such a jackass on one's very nice neighbours.

Give me strength.