Since that time, I have: ripped up all the carpet in my basement, carried it out to be thrown away, acquired a PODS storage unit, and packed up all my photos and decorative items throughout the house. For the weekend L and M came over and we: removed numerous shelving units into the pod, packed up two shelves of books, repaired the paint and plaster in both back rooms from the winter ice damn, prepped the back rooms, painted and put up new house numbers, purchased "banana cream pie" paint, purchased vinyl tiles, tiled the majority of the basement floor, repaired then painted both back ceilings white, painted both back rooms the bright creamy pie color, and (all by myself last night after work) prepped and taped the bathroom, painted the bathroom the same cream color, then (this morning in my supergirl underoos) peeled off all the tape and reattached all the hardware.
I've also hired my neighbors to take care of the exterior. D landscaped like crazy, trimming trees and overgrowth, then pruning the front. B edged the lawn, weeded the driveway, then painted the front of the house to make it look extra-clean. He did a bunch of other touch-up paint, and soon (hopefully tomorrow!) he'll paint the nasty peeling porch. I can't wait! Soon this house will look tremendous.
This evening M and I staged the back two bedrooms, moving minimal furniture into the freshly painted space, and making the bigger one "look like a bedroom". It's kind of funny. I mean, it's a Royal Oak bungalow. There are hundreds of them, exactly the same. You walk in the middle, living room and dining room /kitchen on either side, then a bath, then there are two bedrooms. Upstairs is generally a third bedroom. And yet, according to many professional house stagers, potential buyers could walk into mine and go, "Oh wait, why aren't there any bedrooms? There are just two offices in the back rooms.... where would the children sleep?"
It seems silly to me, but I have begrudgingly agreed to minimalize the "officeyness" of my office and add an air-mattress disguised as a bed. "Now the file cabinet is taking up a lot of room," M commented.
"It's supposed to look like a dresser. Anyway it's the bed that's taking up all the room," I grumped. "This office isn't made for a bed!" But nonetheless, I can understand the idea of staging each room to have a clear purpose. I'm going to have to look at pictures of bedrooms at Ikea and Pottery Barn, to make sure my room looks bedroomy enough.
I still have to make the bathroom look cutsier, and (although it breaks my heart again and again) I fear I have to paint my lovely lavender walls to be a less female color. M's having his cousin come give me an estimate on that. I'm not looking forward to it, even though I can see the practicality.
I also have to empty out the basement. And tidy the garage. And figure out where to put stuff that I will need soon, but shouldn't leave in the staged house. It's exhausting, just trying to think of everything, let alone do it!
My new mantra is: it's not my house, it's not my house. I'm not making it comfortable for me, I'm making it look appealing to the new owners. I hope they get here soon, fall in love with it, and offer me bundles of money for it. I'm eager for this whole thing to be through!