So, the house stuff has really slowed down along with the economy. Chuck and I have gotten super lazy about keeping everything just perfect in the house before we leave. Our deal with the realtor is that we get an hour notice before someone can come see the house. I figure, if it is an emergency, I can run home and make the bed or throw the dishes in the dishwasher or whatever so that within an hour the potential buyers can look at the house. Well, Wednesday afternoon at 3:45 p.m. I recieved a phone call from the real estate service saying that someone wanted to view my house from 4:00 to 5:00 that day. I knew that the house really needed some cleaning up since I had allowed the kids to color on their little pumkins the night before and there was paper all over the living room, two work boxes stacked up, dirty clothes piled up in the corner of the kids room, and dishes in the sink. It sounds like a lot, but I could have had it cleaned up enough if I had an hour lead time, but instead, they had only given me 15 minutes to get home and clean it up - clearly that wasn't going to work.
I hemmed and hawwed for a few seconds and then said, "You know it really is a mess. Could they possibly reschedule for tomorrow sometime?" The agent replied, "No, they don't mind if it's a mess. The clients are in from out of town." Well, out of town clients are better than neighbors seeing my mess, but I still wasn't comfortable. After considering that out of towners are more likely to buy, I gave in and said, "Okay, they can go in, but just know that it's a mess." I hung up the phone and immediately felt regret because I knew it was not in good shape - but my mortification would come later.
I met Chuck after work for soccer practice and as we watched the kids have their last soccer practice, we talked about the shape of the house and how messy we remember it being. Chuck made me feel better by saying things like, "They might think the pumpkin thing is cute." Yeah, yeah. And then I realized something that immediately turned my face a deep shade of red: While I was watching TV the night before, I removed a certain restrictive item of clothing in the living room. Girls, you know what I'm talking about. And, give me a break - it isn't like I was wandering aroudn naked, but I wanted to be comfortable in my jeans and sweatshirt without the over-the-shoulder-pebble-holder restricting my relaxation. So, when we got home, I wandered through the house finding evidence that the potential buyers had indeed gone into the house, and then, I saw it. There on the floor next to the couch was the prematurely removed bra laying out in the open for all to see - scattered among the newspaper, scribbled-on pumpkins, and my work boxes (no attorney-client information revealed thank Heaven). I am still embarrassed about this and want to call the realtor and apologize profusely, but at this point, I'm trying to just keep my head down and not bring anymore attention to myself. Awful.
Second incident - Several times a day I take a long walk down the hall at my office past several attorney offices and secretary desks to get to the restroom. On one such occasion yesterday, I got to the restroom and found that I had a blue post-it flag stuck to the front of my dress right about at hooha level, unseen by me because the protrusion from my body in which George lives blocks my view of that part of my body. Sigh. At least there is an excuse that goes with this incident as opposed the the multiple times I've walked around the office with redaction tape stuck to my ass, hips, hands, elbows . . . you name it. Oh, plus there's the perpetual pen marks staining the backs of my forearms. Evie calls me out on that one.