July 15, 2006

Home Game

I watch enough home improvement shows to know that if you want to sell your house, you have to bore it back to beige.

I have leopard skin carpet on my stairs; my entire downstairs in painted in a colour called 'jalapeno'(it's a reddy orange). The kids' rooms reflect their personalities -they are not beige. I have a plant in a wine press, wrough iron hanging on the walls, and dishes in three different colours. We are not beige.

I know when the time comes to sell, I will have to paint over all this'personality', vacate the premises and let a realtor help someone else imagine themselves living here. Or maybe not. I read this article this morning, and realized we really have become devoid of the ability to make up our own minds.

Apparently, some folks are now using actors to stage some event - they mention 'mom's birthday'- for prospective buyers to see. Like knocking down some third wall in a play, actors pretend to be a family in the home for sale.

Ewwwwwwwwwwww. Just, yuck. Are we really so enamored of a Ken and Barbie world that we want to imagine living in one? A family that doesn't fight, where nobody clips their toenails, where no kids have farting contests, where cats don't have hairballs, and laundry doesn't pile up in the hallway?

They talk about the actors baking a cake. Cakes come from the store. How stupid do they think we are? And who the hell remembers Mom's birthday anyway? My oldest son, Marc, doesn't want me to ever sell the house, except to him. I was born here, and he figures he deserves the chance to continue living here until he drops dead. I've told him forget it - like most writers, the only thing of value I own is my home.

Then again, if I ever put it on the market, I suppose we could play ourselves in the realty play, and make certain no one would ever buy it.


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