Dusty baseboards. Countertops stacked high with notebooks. Mugs of cold coffee. Mounds of paperbacks, library books and magazines. Until recently, this has been my life.
What was an occasional cleaning in past years has now become a daily obsession (or penance) as I polish appliances, mop hardwood floors and check rugs for hairballs as I prepare for a realtor to show my house.
During an initial conversation with my realtor, she used two terms—declutter and deep clean. Declutter entered household lexicon when Marie Kondo, the Japanese declutter expert, advised readers to keep only those objects that “spark joy.” A subjective concept! Deep clean seems to be a form of spring cleaning that you pay someone else to do.
Decluttering has required days or even weeks to sort things into piles for landfill, thrift or move. It also has brought about the question—how did I accumulate so much in three years?
I eyed rooms critically for what sparked joy--the tattered family furniture (no joy) and the cat tree (joy, for the cat anyway).
Years ago, listing a house with a realtor meant a tidy house, one which still had occupants and traces of their lifestyle—coffee tables with neatly stacked books, playrooms with Lego blocks and bathrooms with matching towels.
These days, realtors and buyers expect a minimalistic approach. No towels, no family photos, no knickknacks. In other words, no hint of occupants. Such expectations create unnecessary angst for those of us and pets who still live in the house.
However, for those well-heeled sellers, it’s a different world. They move to another house then turnover their empty house to the realtor.
Once you sign an agreement with your realtor, the lockbox goes on the front door and the sign goes up in the yard.
An app, ShowingTime, sends a request for a showing. The seller can confirm or decline. But in the current buyer’s market, sellers do their best to make a house available, even on short notice. After the showing, potential buyers fill out a brief survey, rating the overall experience, pricing and interest.
The possibility of a showing means beds are made first thing in the morning. No showers or laundry or elaborate meals that leave cooking smells between the hours of 9 am and 6 pm or later. Many sellers like me have last-minute reminders that read like a NASA checklist. Put out the sleek Nespresso Pixie. Put away towels, makeup and shower gels. Turn on lights. Open shades. Buy cut flowers. Put the cat in the kennel. Leave home quickly. But it's too late to address the lack of landscape--why do the beautiful flowers grow in the neighbors' yards!
Ah, the importance of first impressions. Potential buyers have less than an hour to make a decision. Will this showing convince buyers to make an offer? Or is it a dress rehearsal? Those cut flowers become expensive. What about a bowl of lemons or colorful bottles of wine instead?
The take aways—I’ve developed a routine of good enough cleaning. I have the number of the donation center that does pickup on speed dial. I’ve gotten moving estimates. I’ve have to unpack glasses and plates so I can invite the neighbors for wine and tapas. I’ve come to love a decluttered house, but I look forward to the day when I clean for a final time, and I become a buyer who expects to see someone else's decluttered home.
I look forward to hearing what you have to say about staging. Finding that "spark of joy"?
