I love Thursdays. Simply because the next day is Friday.
Friday is the best day of the work week, making Thursday a close second.
Ever since I picked up my cute brass watering can from the local thrift shop, I’ve steadily been falling in love with all things brass. Which, when you think about it too hard, is kinda funny. I bought the watering can on a hem and a haw, not really sure if I even liked it at all. And now that I have a little brass in my life, I kinda just want more.
I mean. Isn’t this bed absolutely gorgeous?
Last night, Mocha decided she didn’t want to sleep. Instead, she paced around the house, from our bedroom to the dining room, up onto her favourite Poang chair, back to the bedroom, up onto the bed, back down, out to the kitchen, in a circle around the dining room, on and on.
Mostly, this would have been ok. Except that Mocha hasn’t been to the groomer in way too long and her nails are in need of a trim. So, puppy pacing on bamboo floor means clack-clack-clack-clack all night, slowly driving the puppy mummy crazy.
While my parents were visiting on the weekend, we dropped into an open house down our street. We do this nearly ever weekend, keeping an eye on what’s directly around us, how it looks and where our house falls into the spectrum. The house was nice and priced for a bidding war, but that’s not what I wanted to remark on.
As we were putting on our shoes, my dad looked around and said, “This place feels like no one lives here.” He and the realtor jumped into a conversation about home staging and my dad left fascinated.
“You sound like a country bumpkin,” my mom muttered to him as we headed back down the street to our unfinished little white house.
It got me thinking. Is dressing a house to the nines specifically for the purpose of selling it a big city thing? Does the same kind of thing go on in our small towns or are the expectations lower, the buyers less swayed by pretty dress? Since we drop in on open houses in this city quite regularly, I have gotten used to the staged nature of a home on the market, have come to expect it, really.
I can’t imagine actually living in such an empty, pretty, but untouchable home though.