September 2, 2006

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2006

I'm 40 and I'm still in Miami. When will it end?

I turned 40 yesterday. The only part of my birthday that I found distressing was the fact that I still haven't found a buyer for this house.

There was a woman who popped up last week two or three times to see the house. She seemed very interested and was even talking offer until Wednesday. Wednesday she showed up out of the blue with her husband. That was the killer. He couldn't have been more unimpressed. He was polite, but there was a lot of squinting and head shaking. By the time they left, any possibility of an offer looked dead in the water.

So, I'm back to painting and cleaning and pulling out more stuff to go in the yard sale. It seems like the longer I'm here, the less of our stuff I feel needs to be carted with us to the edge of the earth.

I don't have to work this weekend and, while this might be a good time to have another garage sale, I've decided I'm going to use this three-day weekend (and the bonus of manic energy provided by a hormonal upswing) to get this place as empty looking as I can without actually removing us. I'm also going to paint the kitchen. I figure it'll take two coats of primer to cover the hideous green wallpaper that the previous owners apparently thought complemented the hideous brown burlap-looking wallpaper in the hallway. In a just universe I would be able to make them come back and paint over this crap themselves.

Unfortunately I'll have to buy another loofah when I've finished slapping on the primer. Unlike latex paint, that peels off of your body once dried, high-quality primer must be scraped off along with a couple layers of skin.

Well, no time to whine (I'll do that later), time to get out a fresh roller pad and get painting.