So I ran into my neighbor out in front today. We chatted about the holidays, where they are moving, why they are moving, etc. And our conversation concluded as follows:
Me: "Your house is so lovely, who staged it for you?"
Neighbor: "Um. Nobody. That's our stuff."
Me: [Suddenly mute for the first time in my life. Well, except for the time that Adam Lambert put his hand on my shoulder.]
Neighbor: "Really, we live that way."
Me: "Uh, ahem, yes, of course. Well, yes, um, really, your home is so lovely. It will obviously show well and sell quickly."
I was wondering if I gave myself away. Surely he would be able to tell by my stupid "Who staged it for you?" question that we don't live that way. Quickly I talked myself into a comfy state of denial that I was sure I could make stick. No, this neighbor has no clue about my cluttered closets, cabinets, drawers, and, shut up, I'm not even going to mention what's under the daybed in my office. Because the outside of my house looks okay. It's not at all cluttered with unwanted and unnecessary things.
Just then he looked up and reached over my right shoulder into a tree at the side of my front walkway. I watched him pluck a large black spider and a strong black web off of one of the limbs. I was about to jump sky high when I realized it was a forgotten Halloween decoration still hanging in the tree.
*In case you didn't know, Blognuts hate spiders.
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21 comments:
Heh. I really hope Blognut reads this.
ROTFL
If it gives you any comfort, my house doesn't look staged.
If it gives you any MORE comfort, I didn't even know what that meant until I'd read the entire post. :)
Based on your description, I suspect the neighbour doesn't have children. That's right, place the blame on the kids. Does that make you feel better?
I'd like for my house to look staged, but I live with three slobs/packrats/hoarders, so I'm doing good just to stay abreast of the mess.
I will say this though: Some parts of my house are so wonderfully organized that it would bring a tear to your eye.
See, at least you HAVE a house that may or may not be staged. I hope to have one soon. And by soon, I mean within the next decade.
OMG! I'm speechless.
Also? My word verification is 'mental'. I can't even make this up.
Oh, I don't believe this for a second. Your house is gorgeous and organized.
My neighbors have two elementary-school-age children, a boy and a girl, and a large dog. It defies reason.
Clearly they don't have any fun in that house!
I'm with Jason. I asked you who your decorator was when I came to your house. It's beyond gorgeous. Like its owner :) Xo
So not only does their house look perfect, they have the requisite two children: one boy, one girl AND a dog?
I had a similar reaction, in very similar situation. Neighbors selling house. There rooms had not a single stich of clutter anywhere. Nothing on the counters or coffee tables and nowhere to store (hide) everything?
Here's how I comforted myself. People who live like that are uptight, obsessive-compulsives. *I,* on the other hand, am warm and clearly much more evolved. Or some self-aggrandizing self-deception like that.
The other thing I say to comfort myself: they can NOT be having good sex. That one works every time.
Where is Blognut anyway, I miss her!
The other day the husband and I were fantasizing about working with one of those vacation rental places so that we could make some $$ renting our house while we travel.
Then I looked around.
We'd need to do a lot of work!
I like your house. And your closets. Also? I know a real person whose house looks like a Pottery Barn catalog. But even nicer. Her name rhymes with Victoria and she works in my office. I went to her house and came home and spent three days thinking about what I could put on the top of my armoire because the top of her armoire was so charming. And that? Was only the top of her armoire.
Why does blogger think I've spelled armoire incorrectly? And I love your house.
By the way. I decided on the following for the top of my armoire: a cracked statue of St. Francis, the Clicquot champagne bucket you gave me with eucalyptus branches in it, and a mosaic pot with a bird on it that I got for free from the woman whose name rhymes with Victoria. Probably because it wouldn't look good on top of her armoire.
@katydidnot: I have spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out what rhymes with Victoria and all that I can think of is Gloria. Am I right? Am I right? Huh? Am I?
From everything I can tell during the years we have lived next door, it is as I said in the first sentence of this post, my neighbors are lovely people. They are friendly. Their children are sweet. They are young and beautiful, all four of them. The lack of crap in their house and yard and on their bellies and hips? Perhaps they have done a good job in their daily lives with that goal to which I aspire: simplify. Maybe they keep their relationships with each other, with food, with consumer goods, with everything, real. That's my belief and I'm stickin' to it.
Victoria rhymes with Victoria. Silly.
Also? The Third Grader wants that spider.
Victoria! Yes! Also? She's wonderful, truly wonderful.
The third grader already has a joint tenancy, an undivided right to possess the whole and a proportionate right of equal ownership interest, in my iPhone. He can also have one in my spider decoration.
"Who staged it for you?" LOVE it.
And I'd have totally nosed around online, too. Actually, I did when our old house went up for sale.
LOL
i think my house was staged by a bunch of drugged up homeless people!
and yeah....your house? so very nice...of course, i was drinking and it was dark and we were out on the patio, but...yeah. so lovely.
fyi...i couldn't find one particular Christas decoration when i was hanging up everything and then realized that it had never actually been taken down from the year before and was still hanging on the back of the door.
oh....i'm also going to cut and paste Yogurt's comment to be used at a later date...and when necessary.
He's psyched about the spider. Notwithstanding the heretofore undisclosed something else legal.
Remind me to tell you about the year we didn't take our Christmas tree down until March. Or throw it out from the back porch until July.
(Or maybe just remind me to talk to my shrink about that.)
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