Well, we’ve done it. Our house is on the market. I hope it sells quickly, because we’ve whipped the place into show-perfect condition and trust me, I can only sustain this for a very short amount of time. The pressure of the constant running around after two messy little primates dripping crumbs and two fuzzy big canines shedding fur and one giant ape dripping socks is just a whole lot for one person who isn’t that fond of housekeeping to begin with.
Every time someone wants to come through to see the place, I have to figure out two things, after doing a runaround to clean up at the last minute and sticking my daughter’s Dug doll (I’ll explain) on the bedside table:
1. Where do I put the kids
2. Where do I put the dogs
Because I’m sure the last thing a potential buyer would like while they are going through my drawers is a kid asking, “Do you want to buy my house? Want some fruit snacks?” while a dog runs interference leaning into their hip every two seconds for pets.
I’ve read that one should remove all hints of yourself from the house so that potential buyers just see themselves in it. We tried, but we have too many family pictures on the walls; if we took them all down they would be bare. I tried to hide signs of pet ownership in case someone is a freaky I hate pets person, but all they need to do is go in the garage to see the evidence: the dishes, the litterbox, the pile of leashes, and (usually) Apollo, hiding from the strangers.
We are animal lovers here. There are clear hints. The more subtle hints are hidden away in drawers: the rawhides, the Kongs, the Advantage tubes. Most people don’t see those things, because most people don’t go through your drawers, but some people do. I know this. I have planned for it.
I expect people to look in the cabinets, in the closets. Anything that is part of the house is fair game, and I get that. Opening a drawer or two to assess the cabinet structure, OK. But the one thing I know people do, because people have admitted to it, is rummaging through the free standing dresser drawers and things they have no business going through, either because they’re looking for stuff to lift, or because they’re just nosey.
We locked away anything of value, put prescription meds in the safe (though if anyone wants leftover malarone, be my guest.) Then I made a little sign for the bedside table, because anyone who opens that is just looking for trouble, that said: “Smile! You’re on the nanny cam!”
And because most people hide nanny cams in stuffed animals, they will immediately lift their eyes and see, staring right back at them, the steely Disney eyes of justice in the form of the Dug doll sitting on top of my bedside table.
Yeah, Brody’s not home, but I still have a guard dog.
And OK, technically I don’t even really have it rigged as a camera, but it would be classic if I did. Makes me almost wish I had a nanny cam just so I could record people’s reactions for YouTube. The beauty of the whole idea, of course, is that if you aren’t nosing around where you shouldn’t be, you’d have no idea I was trolling you. If you open the drawer, you deserve what you get.
Anyone have any experiences with nosey house hunters? Or any ideas for other surprises I should leave? I do have a copy of the infamous Purina fecal scoring chart in the garage.