Our landlords set up an appointment to show our place to prospective tenants at 9 a.m. this morning, which meant a couple of things for me:
– The possible new tenants may not appreciate a 13-pound greeter at the door who would likely follow them around jumping on the backs of their legs. And our landlord probably wouldn’t like having Molly spill the beans (“The dryer broke the other night, I wake up cold four out of seven mornings and Mom had to shower at their place when we were left without water. So, when do you move in?”) So the Peekapoo is at work with me today.
– I’m not usually out of the house by 9 a.m. So I had an early morning that involved not only my regular routine, but little touches like sponging down the sink and opening all the blinds to make the place look bigger than the interior of a minivan. But I’m proud to say that I got out the door this morning with Molly, 10 pounds of her accessories, my laptop and purse by 8:45 a.m.
– Our place wasn’t exactly in showcase condition, leading to the aforementioned cleaning and packing and cleaning some more. As I was on my fifth hour of cleaning last night and sweeping up dirt in the kitchen, the Pretend Husband asked from the couch, “Are you trying to make up for a year of not cleaning in one night?” And I punched him in the head to make sure he’ll never ask that again. The End.
Actually, I didn’t punch him in the head, but let’s just say he’s a very lucky man that I was able to restrain myself from using the broom in some of the creative ways that ran through my head. We talked about his little gem of a comment last night before bed and he promised to never pick on my awesome cleaning and organizational skills again. Or, at the least, not to laugh when I claim to have them.
But enough about me. Here’s what you really came for…
1 comment:
I'd have thrown him a broom and suggested he take January through June. :P
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