One hour before the open house my son emptied all the trash and hid the dirty laundry in the garage cupboard.  My daughter cleaned all the glass and mirrors with Windex and made sure all the toilets were flushed (boys). I wiped down counters, swept floors and put out new sofa pillows and bathroom towels. I also boiled cinnamon and sugar on the stovetop (who has time to bake freakin’ cookies?). My other son did his part by going outside and not touching anything.

Home for sale

The house has been for sale since April with little to no interest from buyers.  We’re in the “grand expectations” price bracket along with seven other homes in our neighborhood. We don’t have high-end finishings or the latest color palette but we do have SPACE.  The house is deceptively large compared to its seemingly diminutive exterior.  It’s surprisingly spacious and deep (like all amazing things:).

I miss the toaster

We’ve been maintaining appearances and unnaturally “living” in our home for five months. If you walk through our house for a showing you will not see any dirty laundry, any trash in wastebaskets, any clutter on countertops, any questionable reading on my nightstand or any throw rugs anywhere (the stager said they scream ‘germs’). Our toaster is even tucked away to create the effect of uninterrupted flat surfaces.

Sharing your private world with strangers is unnerving. The illusion of mad cleanliness and magazine-cover perfection  (immaculate bedding and sparkling sinks) is wearing on all of us.  We so want to let down our guard and BE.

No cocooning

It occurred to me that all of this scrambling, exposure and maintaining appearances is much like extroverting for an introvert.  It’s pretending. It’s revealing your inner sanctuary to the public in such a way that they will be impressed but at the same time hiding everything that is truly you. It’s doing and doing instead of thinking and being. It feels unnatural and exhausting.

The possibility of interruptions make it damn hard to get into a comfortable flow. Even when we do relax a bit and move through our daily routines, i.e. allowing crumbs on the floor and bills on the desk, we have to be prepared for short-notice showings, which means throwing detritus in a basket in the back of the van and hanging out in a public place, usually Caribou Coffee, for an hour. If you do this enough times and the coffee shop offerings start to lose their appeal. Forced to leave our cocoon (which is still a warm place no matter how sterile it is), we feel like displaced real- estate refugees, much like introverts feel in a hyped-up extrovert world.

It’s not really our home anymore.  It’s where we hide our stuff and maintain a look that appeals to the majority.

Being you = home

We want to feel at home.

The open house went down on Saturday afternoon.  It garnered slow traffic and no additional showings.  Sh*t, more time in housing limbo.  The only beautiful thing about no new showings is that we got to enjoy Sunday in our home without interruptions.  We un-hid our personal items, unfolded blankets and snuggled on the couch.  We even messed up the countertops and used the toaster!  Sigh…

Alone-cute-girl-waiting-someone-on-window-sadnessSolitude brings Sunday bliss to introverts. We come back to ourselves in uninterrupted, beautiful space. We are home.

I dwell in possibility. ~ Emily Dickinson

Where have you felt pushed out of your element? When have you pretended to be something you’re not? When do you feel at home?

Other posts that might grab you:

The Introvert’s Love Affair with Solitude: Will It Always Be Taboo?

Halfway Home: Somewhere Between Building a Home and Feeling at Home

Introverts Not Meant to Live the Cookie-Cutter Life?

Video: The Space We Need: An Introvert Wakes Up, Slows Down and Starts Living According to Her True Nature