Punctuality

In addition to purging our possessions, part of the moving process for us includes letting total strangers wander though our home while we're not here. The landlord has listed the townhouse for rent and several interested people have come by to see if they want to live here next year.

The week that we were in Atlantic City lots of people came. In New Jersey all rentals have to use a real estate agent. We left the for the trip knowing that our house had to be in show condition. Our hope was that someone would come by, see it, love it, rent it, and then we wouldn't need to worry about keeping everything pristine. For as many chores as we do regularly, it's tough to keep every room totally clean all the time.

In spite of all the people that came by the week we were gone, no one rented the house.

No one called to see it last week either. We started to wonder if the listing had been pulled when I got a call on Friday asking for an appointment for yesterday. That gave me the whole weekend to pull everything into order.

Monday morning dawned and we got to work. Peter was pretty helpful, Cooper was slightly less so, and Phoebe spent most of the day lying on the ground, complaining loudly that her legs hurt. At least, they hurt until her brothers came in to play, and then all maladies vanished. Nevertheless, and despite lots of distractions and calls to come back and help clean, we were on track to be out the door to the library before the agent and prospective renter came at the appointed 4:30.

Shortly after 3:30, with dishes in the sink, unfolded laundry in the front room, and a few errant spots on the dining room floor. I glanced out the window that overlooks our driveway. There was a car. And there was a man that I didn't know getting out of it.

All of sudden, I knew what was happening. "They're here early!!!" I yelled to the kids. "They're an hour early!! Grab your shoes! Grab the library books! Get down to the van!" The kids scrambled to comply, just as frenzied as I felt. I hauled the baskets of clean clothes up the stairs to my room, whisked a doesn't-go-here bag to the basement, and grabbed daytime clothes for a fresh-from-her-nap Sophie. I came downstairs just as they were walking in and saying, "We know we're a little early, We hope it's alright."

In what culture is AN HOUR a little early?

I should have said, "No, no it's not alright. We needed that last hour to make sure everything was done and we could leave before you arrived. Please come back when you said you would be here originally." But I didn't. Instead I said, "Uuuuhhhhh, weeeelllll, okay. I guess it's alright. We could have really used that hour, but we'll head off to the library so we can get out of your way." And then we scurried around gathering what we needed to get out the door, complete with children screaming and being generally chaotic.

We finally got to the car, I opened the garage, and saw that our early visitors had blocked me in.

Awesome.

I ran back upstairs to ask them to move the car. As I rounded the corner on the stairs and before I got the words out of my mouth, I saw the real estate agent's face. She was showing the master bedroom and she was wearing a look of dismay. I heard her say, "Try turning on the other light." But there is no other light in our room. The light hasn't worked in that room since the end of last August. Bryan rigged a wireless switch to a standing lamp, but it doesn't provide much illumination. Phoebe's light failed recently as well. Each time we've needed maintenance we've sent a letter to the owner, and each time the request has gone unheeded.

In that moment, standing on the stairs, registering the look on her face, it hit me: perhaps no one will rent this house, at least not until it gets some attention and care. We've maintained a clean house and have kept our wear and tear to a minimum, but the almost complete lack of upkeep that this house has received over the years shows. I have met three of the former tenants and they each tell the same story. Things broke, the landlord promised repair, then stalled, then simply ignored until the renters fixed things themselves. And while they were reimbursed for parts, they were not compensated for labor. That means the owner has been getting years of free work on this house. Other than installing smoke detectors that weren't ten years old and replacing a broken end-cap on the top rack of the dishwasher, we haven't fixed a thing.

I have no idea if the visitors found anything redeeming about the house. We left for the library before they had a chance to ask any questions.

We have another person coming to see the house today. I'm seriously considering leaving two hours in advance, just in case.