ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

You want staging? I'll show you ^%$&ing staging

We had a very nice Thanksgiving. I only had to make out with, like, 25 people to crumb together half a cookie. It was worth it, except that one of those people had a cold and I've been sniffling and hacking for the last three days.

The perils of sucking face for sweets.

My cold put a big damper on our weekend plan, which was to make some progress on Operation Move. Remember how I mentioned in August that we were moving to Mulletville Lite?

We haven't gotten very far. For one, we haven't sold our house. My darling brother Ted, who stopped by yesterday, wondered aloud if it might have something to do with the fact that our dining room looks like this



"You've heard of staging, right?" he asked. "You have to stage your home."

Staging? Have I effin' heard of staging? This, coming from a 28-year-old bachelor who still sleeps until 3 p.m. Who has no idea how few able-bodied hours there are in the day when you work full-time, raise a toddler and get winded opening the mailbox.

Even if I had spent precious time staging, the house we're moving into-my father's old house, aka my childhood home-has been fraught with problems. Because of black mold, Chuck had to demolish the basement and air scrub it.

And my wannabe Bob Vila father keeps taking a sledgehammer to anything that looks even slightly off kilter. No sooner do we think a room is ready than we get a call along the lines of, "I saw an air bubble in the paint so I got the axe and tore down the wall for you."

It's madness; we need to abscond his keys.

Diddlydoo's Mulletville Lite bedroom looks like this



The dining room looks like this



But don't worry! Staging will save us.

I swear, siblings can be such peckerheads. You're helplessly staring up at the friggen summit and all you can do is waddle around base camp, cramming almonds and reduced fat cheese sticks into your mouth, and they get all HGTV on your ass.

Anyway, after some discussion this morning, Chuck and I decided that Operation Move will now be called Operation Move Later. Diddlydoo will be born in Mulletville. We'll move in January. With a newborn. In the middle of winter. On limited sleep.

That's when I officially change the name of this blog to "Vodka in my Vodka."

11 comments:

VandyJ said...

Good luck with the move and the newborn and everything. I feel for you.

SLColman said...

Good luck getting all moved and settled!!
Feel better with that cold :(

Frogs in my formula said...

Wait! You're supposed to agree with me that my brother is a huge peckerhead!

Pricilla said...

Moving sucks.

Wouldn't rum in your vodka just taste better?

The Mother said...

A real estate agent once told me she could sell anything that smelled like chocolate chip cookies or cinnamon rolls. Get out your baking skills and stink up your house.

Getrealmommy said...

Your blog always makes me laugh. We are in the process of moving as well, lucky for us we are now renting in California, so we don't have to worry about selling our current home, although I feel really guilty about our landlords having to show our house. I am going to have to warn them to duck when they open any closet in the house. We are BURSTING at the seams! Ugg. Moving sucks.

Mama Badger said...

Good idea, Chuck. And your brother is a huge peckerhead. Doesn't he know that you only tell pregnant women how wonderful they look, and how cute their kids are? Dumbass. He's supposed to save the criticism for Chuck.

Sara said...

Ugh! loling at going all HGTV on your ass. Sounds like a lot of balls in the air.

marybt said...

Forget baking. Just heat up the oven, turn it off, and stick a bowl of vanilla extract in while the oven is still warm.

I think a chalk outline in the driveway would fit the bill nicely.

SmartBear said...

Sounds like your peckerhead brother knows just what to do...so he should get his ars on over there and stage it!
LOL!
Sending you a virtual vodka martini girl. Hang in there. Can you still see your feet? It doesn't get REALLY bad as long as you can still see your feet past your belly, right? :)
Best,
Tina

Keely said...

Tell your peckerhead brother to get his ass in gear and help stage your house, then. What the fuck is family for if not manual labor?