I now know how a fish feels. Living in a see-through container, vulnerable, naked, no where to go, no where to hide. Glug, blub, glug, blub.
I've been living in a fish bowl myself since putting the house on the market. My OCD is driving Frankie and me insane. She is not allowed to leave dishes in the sink...and she must wipe it down after used. If we happen to see a minuscule bit of lint on the floor we must bend over and pick it up. If there is a LOT we must grab the carpet sweeper from the closet and sweep it up. Oh, and pet fur, that is a whole other issue.
Sweep, sweep, sweep.
I got a call about 9:30 last night, a Realtor wants to bring a client around today at noon. I immediately got up and began sweeping the living room carpet because I knew this morning there was going to be a new batch of pet fur...I've already swept it once today. It's a living nightmare I tell you.
Stay calm, everybody loves fish, and enjoys their leisure swims through their fluid homes. They never appear upset, or anxious. Glub, blub, glug, blub.
Relax, Sandra, relax, if someone does not like your fishbowl, so what? Is it the end of the world? Is it really going to matter in 20 years? I think not. I feel like I've done the best I can to make my home attractive. Have I done enough? Probably not. Should I do more? Probably.
However I refuse to live in an austere, sterile environment, even fish in pet stores have a pleasant well lit, comfortable living room. My home is still MY home until I sign papers that says it isn't, so welcome to my living room. It might be a fishbowl at the moment, glub, blub, glub, blub everybody.
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