It’s a very cold, early morning.
It’s time to warm up by the fire. But do these two listen to me? Nope. They want to go back out there.
My dogs are nuts.
We’ve cleaned the house from rafters to foundation. Our tiled floors have been swept, then moped and then dried to avoid any streaks. We sanded, then painted our deck until it gleamed like new. We trimmed, puffed and pruned our bushes and shrubs until they looked their best. Any and all inside plants that looked sickly were trimmed if semi-healthy, or watered if alive. We’ve added newly potted plants with flowers to our living area and deck. We even bought fancy-looking hand towels for the bathroom.
Honestly, I think Martha Stewart would be proud.
But no one came to see our house.
Part of the issue was our realtor somehow put the wrong information online and our house appears listed some 100 Km from where we actually live, in the middle of nowhere. Part of the issue is that it’s the middle of the weekend and people are busy. Part of the reason is that the realtor was supposed to call my hubby for showings and, since he’s technologically challenged, he forgot to charge his phone and the thing is dead.
Still, when we heard the dogs freaking out at the door, we were delighted. A showing! Someone had finally come to see our house! We ran to the door…
We had a visitor alright.
A science based exploration of (mostly) dogs ... and the occasional rant.
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