Wednesday, October 12, 2011

New and improved TV watching spot

The first time we tried to move, to another suburb on the southeast side of Houston, I had a baby, a one year old, and I was pregnant. And I had to keep the house clean. For showings.

It. Was. H. E. Double hockey sticks.

The showing service was less than reliable at the time and once someone came to see the house when there was literally a dirty diaper in the middle of the floor.

Our house was on the market for eleven months, ie, the entirety of Maggie's pregnancy and for a couple of months when I had a one year old, a two year old, and a newborn. We had approximately three showings a week. One second showing. One. No offers.

The second time we listed it with a new realtor to move to another suburb on the northwest side of Houston, I had a four year old, a three year old, a one year old, and a baby. And I had to keep the house clean. For showings.

Same unreliable showing service. Once the doorbell rang when I was upstairs, my discarded jeans lying on the stairs. I managed to pull them on just as the realtor came in. I'm not sure if catching me half naked would have improved the property value or detracted from it.

Last summer, we thought about moving again, to yet another suburb on the far west side of Houston. Talked to our friend and new realtor, Karre. We began to make some repairs on the house. Then I did some math and realized that with the current market, with the money we made on selling our home we would be able to afford a nice refrigerator box under and overpass on Interstate 10.

Every time we've gone to the incredible hassle of listing our home, the decision has been prayed over and discussed at length. Every time we have felt that it was where God was leading us. Every time we've been flat out utterly completely 100% wrong, as is evidenced by the fact that it did not sell.

(Karre says no, it didn't sell because we had bad realtors who obviously didn't price it well. Every house will sell, she swears up and down. I tell her lots of people with bad realtors sell their homes, that God's will is stronger than a bad realtor, and that He didn't want us to move for some unknown and completely unfathomable reason. She gives me a look that says, whatever Missy, you had bad realtors.)

Here we are again, thinking of listing our home again. Next summer. After we save some money, a lot of money. Moving somewhere, maybe in Houston, maybe not.

Will it happen? With Super Realtor on the scene? I don't know.

But just in case, I'm getting a new powder room.

So I hope you liked that whole little life story that was really just a set up to tell you that I'm getting a new powder room.

Tee hee hee!!

When we liked this house I liked very much where the powder room was because 1) guests didn't have to go through the laundry room to powder their noses and 2) I could watch TV from the throne while I powdered my nose.

Yes, I think like that.

(We need to put that in the realtor description!)

Problem is that it was very claustrophobic and poorly designed. There's a huge cabinet in there, but if you put stuff in it, you will have to essentially stick your head in the toilet to retrieve it.

I didn't take a 'before' shot because I thought surely, surely, nine years in one house, I have one. Turns out, I don't take a lot of photos in the potty. Who knew?

Here's one of the only ones I could find, starring a little Maggie:

Edited, because do you see what's been discarded at her feet?

The color is actually not so red anymore but the same pumpkin that is in my kitchen.

Here is what it looks like at this very moment:

Pretty exciting, eh?

Big Reveal coming soon!


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