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The Not So Open House

A few words from yesterday…

The “Open House” has ended, it actually never really started. No knocks on the door, or rings of the bell. Just silence. In reference to what Dan said about having a party that no one shows up to, this feels like being the jilted prom date. I worked so hard yesterday perfecting it all, I got up this morning hurting in so many places I had long forgotten, but filled with anticipation and hoping for the best. I am proud of my home and what we have accomplished. I was feeling down as the clock struck three, but then set out to amuse myself with one of my favorite things to write. That would be a reworking of The Night Before Christmas. I’ve done it in probably ten different ways along the years. I love words, and the challenge of trying to recreate within the stanzas of that poem always gives me great satisfaction. So here it is in its goofiest form yet:

‘Twas the night before the showing,
Just me and my spouse,
We were frantically De-furring
And tidying our house.

With three cats, and so much dusty desert air,
It seemed to need cleaning most everywhere!
The cats were no help, and continued to shed,
By evenings end we were ready for bed.
With both of us ready for a good long nap
We decided to call the evening a wrap.
We knew that we had completed most of what mattered
And if we didn’t rest, the next day we’d be shattered.

Into our bed we fell with a crash,

hoping tomorrow would bring a buyer with cash.


We slept until the sun’s earliest glow,
We made a fast list of what to do and let go.

Running out of time was our fear,

before the chime of the doorbell we’d hear.
A little more tweaking, fresh flowers might be the trick,
To make this the home that a buyer would pick.
Eleven O’clock, time to begin the waiting game
For that one special person who might want to lay claim:
We waited, and waited for a bell to answer

Waited and waited to let someone in!
No bell ring, no knock, our excitement was muted!
All that wasted work what a sin!
Not a step on the porch!

Or a telephone call!
Please pray tomorrow is a better day

What in the world happened to them all?

I know you might think there’s no reason to cry
But you must understand I try, and I try.
I think that you‘d be sad too
If you worked and you worked as hard as we do.

It really looks lovely under this roof
Look at the video to see the proof.
We set off to drive around
And sadly take today’s signs down.
Day after day of being covered in soot
To make sure everything is perfect where put
Night after night where I’d hit the sack
And lay there sleepless as I’d plan the next day’s attack.
Day after day that was truly quite scary
Of losing this home I was quite wary
Worried that we would have nowhere to go

I blogged and I blogged with tales of woe.
Then along came a job and room to breathe,
but it came with a trek long enough to make Dan seethe!
Three hours each way gritting his teeth

(and just a little cussing and yelling)
We need to move to another new dwelling!
Surely some pity I felt for myself
As I began to pack every room, every shelf.
As I filled up the boxes filled with dread
A new idea popped into my head.
A home that just might need a little rework
One filled with lots of character and quirk
Now I am anxious for this house to close
If only tomorrow’s open house has any shows.
The house is as clean as a whistle
I need a buyer! Let’s make this official!
I’m ready to move on to brand new sights
Let’s hope for tomorrow and to the right price!


OK, so I know it is hideously corny, but it was either that or a good cry. I opted for the horrific poem instead. It is now 12:48, Open House day number two. I’m anxious and nervous, and tired yet again. I ran through the house to touch it all up. So stay tuned later to hear what’s new…is it me or is this thing starting to rhyme?…Anyway, hopefully, hopefully, someone (Anyone? Anyone? Bueller, Bueller?) will come to see this place.


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