Friday, August 18, 2017

Friday, August 18, 2017

On Monday morning I got a call from the real estate agent letting me know that someone wanted to see the house the next day between 10:30 and 11:30am. I flew into high gear and cleaned windows and deck doors and basement stairs, toilets and bathtubs, vacuumed and mopped floors - I went steady until about 11pm when I decided that whatever was done was all that was going to be done. Besides the few things I would do in the morning before I left for work, I was finished. I planned to turn on the lights and the scented plug-ins and check the cat's litter box for fresh/stinky deposits. I had nagged Nick about tidying up the computer room as well as his bedroom, particularly the blood spots on the carpet, and he promised me it would all be done 'if he had to stay up all night'. I asked if I would be able to go into the computer room and clean it up but he refused to let me in there. All I was permitted to do was to open the windows.

Nick did agree to take the dogs away in the car at the time the showing was scheduled. I went off to work in the morning and anxiously waited for the report from the agent. The first showing is always exhilarating, but after a few with no offers, the temporary high becomes stifled.

About 30 minutes after the time the showing was scheduled to begin, I got a message from the agent saying that the clients had been so put off by the broken down fences and general clutter in the yard that they decided they didn't want to see inside the house. Their impression was that 'the owners didn't care about the property'. I forwarded the message to Nick just as it had been sent to me.

He was upstairs reading in his room when I got home, and I had decided not to start a fight with him about it anyway. I was way too tired. I just wanted to go to bed. We said little the next morning as I left for work. I didn't feel like fighting before work either.

I was off the next day, Thursday, and I had made an appointment to take my dog Sam to have his nails clipped. Nick had been doing it for years but he said his clippers had disappeared. My dog Sam is 10 now and he has slipped or fallen down the hardwood stairs while coming and going from my bedroom over the last few weeks. He hasn't been eating well either. I thought having his nails cut might make it easier for him. It is such a pitiful sight to see him fall down the stairs.

Sam and I had a nice adventure together that morning. he had his nails cut, which he is always very good for, and we went to the post office and to the bakery as well. We shared a couple of tea biscuits on the way back home. I used to never give him human food but since he doesn't seem much interested in his dog food anymore, I have started giving him scraps hoping he will gain back a bit of weight.

When we got home and I announced we had successfully had nails clipped, Nick asked me why I had taken him anywhere instead of asking him to do it. I told him I thought the clippers had gone missing to which he replied that 'they had re-appeared again'. I had told him I thought they ere in the computer room and obviously that is where he found them. Oh well, Sam and I had had a great time together that we would have otherwise missed.

I started to feel rather lousy, and decided to lay down for awhile, something I never do during the day. I think I was just exhausted, mentally and physically, from the past several days. I slept right through until the next morning. I got once or twice to use the bathroom, but that was it.