Just hide everything in the car
With 15 minutes before our open home, um, opens, my son has added a final flourishing touch.
For days I’ve been trying to make our house look as if a nice family live in it and now the actual family that do are finally heading out the door: kids fighting; adults seething; dog delighted.
Outside, the agent has pulled up in his flash car while inside I’ve halted in horror halfway across the lounge, where someone has written ‘‘Josh’’ in big wobbly letters on the carpet. ‘‘It wasn’t me,’’ shrugs Josh.
‘‘What’s the secret to a successful open home?’’ a story asked a few weeks ago, posing a pertinent question for a market in the doldrums.
The advice from agents was just what you’d expect: choose your timing, tidy up, light a scented candle: all reasonable suggestions belying what can be a most unreasonably hellish process.
Fortunately it’s been many long years since I had to suffer it but for anyone currently doing so, here’s some much more practical advice.
Hide everything. Put it in the car if you have to.
If it’s too filthy to put in the car – like the dog’s bed or children’s beanbag – stuff it in the washing machine. If the machine is full (of course it is) stash stuff under the couch.
Lie an important piece of paper over the piece of carpet your child wrote on. The cat will now sit on it and nobody will ever suspect a thing.
Leave the kids’ bedroom doors open so nobody notices the doors don’t have handles on the inside. Write ‘‘don’t be nosey’’ on a piece of cardboard and pop it in the fridge.
Put the dog in the car. Put the kids in the car. Got a neighbour prone to doing something strange in their backyard and looking like they’re about to do it again? Into the car they go.
Find your two matching towels. These are the Open Home Towels and woe betide anyone who uses them. Drape one on the rack and roll the other artfully beside the basin.
Hang the Open Home Tea Towel from the oven door. Lay the Open Home Welcome Mat outside.
Put the Open Home Paper Towels in that dispenser thing that nobody uses.
Don’t bother trying to sort the pantry, it’s impossible.
Turn all the plants so people can’t see the my-name-is stickers on their pots. Actually, remove half the plants because you look mad with so many. Put them in the car.
Stage your home so it looks like it’s waiting for someone who isn’t you. Put a bottle of wine and your only two glasses on the wrought iron outdoor table. Don’t have a wrought iron outdoor table? Put them by the bath. No, that looks sleazy. Ditch the glasses and just put the bottle in the car.
Declutter your wardrobe by dumping all the clothes in your bed and smoothing the duvet over them. Prod the other cat off the pillow with the broom and remind yourself to warn the agent that it bites.
Clear the kitchen bench of everything except the jug, two cups and a blue bowl of lemons. Put the broken SodaStream machine and empty knife block in the oven.
Remove every sign that you live here. Kick everything that’s on the floor of the kids’ rooms under their beds. Unearth a rancid lunchbox and kick it back under. Place an art book you’ve never read on the coffee table. Flip it over because someone’s written ‘‘Josh’’ on the cover.
Park across the road and watch the neighbours wander into your home. Drink the wine.