Packing Dreams

7AM on a hazy street in a small-ish (albeit overcrowded) town in Massachusetts, the Logan Express bus drives up to a well-kept two-family. Inside, a petite woman frantically tosses extra underwear and bottles of Tylenol PM into an enormous suitcase while trying to fasten the velcro on her Teva and pin her hair up with one hand. Hearing the squealing brakes of the bus, the woman snatches up the case, zipping up whatever happened to make it in, and runs down the stairs and across the lawn as the bus begins to move again, having given up on whatever passenger thought she'd actually make it into a gray seat with the festive yellow, red and orange stripes. Woman attempts to howl in fury as exhaust fills her lungs.

I woke up at this point and decided that sleep was futile. I was at my desk 42 minutes later at a record 7:50. AM.

Squeal like a pig

So, last night, during a house meeting in which my brother, Joe, Bryan and I were to discuss what to do should someone make an offer on the house while I'm in China, the conversation took a rather odd turn:

Joe: You're not having an Open House this weekend are you?
Me: Yes.
Joe: But I told you that I'm having Mike's bachelor party here, right?
Me: Yes, but that will be Saturday night.
Joe: I'm pretty sure I wrote in the email it would be a day/night affair.
Me: Well, it will have to be an after 4/night affair.
Joe: But the pig is coming at 10:30.
Me: We listed the house on MLS on Tuesday and have to keep the momentum going and have Open Houses this weeke...did you say pig? What do you mean pig?
Joe: A pig and it's being set up at 10:30.
Me: In the morning?
A pig?

Me: You can't have a pig here.
Joe: Well, I can't undo it, it's done.
Me: You have to cancel the pig (a pig! in my backyard!)
Joe: No, it's a done deal.
Me: Are they going to have to dig a hole in which to roast this pig?
Joe: I wouldn't think they do.
Me: Wouldn't think? Or No? Biiiig difference.
At this time Joe calls the organizer of the pig (!) to see if a hole will have to be dug in my beautiful, landscaped backyard, the yard that Bryan and I sweat over and have lovingly (albeit somewhat painfully) weeded, mulched, mowed, seeded, weeded again, mowed again, etc. ALL FUCKING SPRING/SUMMER!

Joe: Hi, B-, do you know if they are gonna dig a hole for the pig?
Conversation continues and when it's over, Joe looks confident.
Joe: No hole. The guy comes with a setup and just needs a plug for the spit. We can put it in the back of the yard.
Bryan: Or better yet, between the garage and the shed, where there's no grass.
Bryan: It will smell good for the Open House.

So, there will be a pig roasting on a spit during our Open House on Saturday. Here's hoping to vegetarians or Jews look at the place and run screaming at the sight of a large slab of pig meat sizzling in front of the shed.

I have read A LOT of homeselling books, but none have mentioned the joys of attempting to sell your house with a brother who thinks that roasting a large slab of meat in your back yard while you are trying to sell that house is a fabulous idea.

I'm ba-aack

I'm still not sure that I have anything to say, but here I am. These past 5 weeks have been filled with house-selling angst and China excitement.
After several Open Houses and no buyers (lots of interest, but no one with actual money), we decided to list the house on MLS, which is the big site that buyers and brokers use to find potential matches - we REALLY hope that our match is out there and makes his/her/their move soon. We will have two more Open Houses this Sat. & Sun. and then I leave for China.

China. I am going for 2 1/2 weeks, along with 20 teachers. I will try to blog while I'm in China, but I don't know how often I'll have an Internet connection.