The Showing

My parents (with who I was living with up until recently while I got my health issues in order) are in the process of trying to sell their house. Over the course of the past few months I was home, I discovered this process to be my own personal Hell.

Now, believe it or not, the particular hellishness of the whole thing has nothing to do with sentimentality and the fact that they are selling my childhood home. It does, however, have everything to do with the house showings.

For those not familiar with the concept, a house showing is pretty much what it sounds like. Potential buyers come through with a realtor to take a look, and the owner and their family disappear for about an hour so this can go down. Oh, and the place has to be spotlessly clean. These showings are usually pretty early in the morning, and my mom -- quite eager to sell the house -- takes them very seriously. The results are as follows:

So yeah... that, except for like, twice a week for several months.

And that's why I don't live at home anymore.