So I have some news Regular Readers. We’re moving. But, just up the road to another Boxford home, which is admittedly crazy. But you don’t know true crazy until you’ve been staged.
“Staging involves giving potential buyers a vision for what the home could be for them,” our realtor explained.
It also involves a small truckload of props and pillows and re-arranged rooms full of breakable items. But I’m nothing if not flexible (ahem) so I had a vision that we no longer lived here because the Staged Family had moved in. And boy, does the Staged Family love their decorative pieces and assorted vases. Also, the Staged Mom? She can fire up the dinner scene like nobody’s business.
For instance, tonight the Staged Family is having sesame encrusted tuna sashimi. I know this because the glossy photo cookbook was left open to that recipe near their gleaming and sparkling oven that never has crumbs near the burners. That’s so amazing for them, especially since we will be eating Door Dash in the containers it comes in while sitting on the floor. Our table is not an option now that the Staged Family has set it with layers of china, linens and crystal that scream, “Thanksgiving with Martha Stewart” but, alas, do not scream, “Tuesday night in between sports and church clubs.”
Also, fascinating bit of trivia here, but after dinner, the Staged Family doesn’t store their dinnerware in the built-in cabinets that abound in our dining room.
“We don’t keep the plates in the cabinets?” I clarified to our realtor.
“Oh, no. Only one item, like a crystal bowl, a signature piece that creates space around it.”
Huh. Creates space. Like a high-speed particle collider? They create space around them, it’s their main function: creating space so particles can collide. My realtor could tell she had lost me. “Just put a large bowl on each shelf.”
“Right.” I confirmed. “Signature pieces. I’m on it.”
Things took a dive when it was time to give my book shelves to the Staged Family. My realtor reminded me, “It’s not about how you live, it’s about giving someone room to consider what they might do.”
“You mean besides put books on their bookshelves!” I exclaimed. “What else might they do? Take a nap? Whip up some omelettes? So, I’ll just remove my theology and science books and leave a bookshelf with empty spots?”
Our realtor refused to indulge my freak out. She smiled like I’d grasped a hard concept. “Yes, exactly.”
Fine. Their loss. And while we’re at it, obviously the Staged Family does not have dogs. So neither do we at the moment. Making two giant Bernese Mountain Dogs and accompanying beds, dishes and toys vanish was no small feat. But the Staged Family put out white throw cushions and lovely white blankets and bowls full of decorative glass balls. Blue and Moose have never met a breakable item at tail-level that they don’t love, so into the White Whoosh minivan they went, and together we have been camping in parking lots around the North Shore.
Lastly, it turns out the Staged Family also have two teenaged girls! Only these two girls have no personal effects in their rooms, no makeup, no moisturizer, no piles of mismatched earrings and necklaces tangled in a tumbleweed of fashion jewelry that will never be worn again, unless it’s the exact right thing and then clearly it will be worn again. Who were these Staged Family teens with no childhood stuffed animals? They never scattered bags of chips or granola wrappers on their floor? No half unpacked gym bags? There was not even one mismatched sock lying hopelessly in the corner?
“You can’t be serious.” My eldest daughter said as we moved her nightstand into the closet.
But I was. Staged Older Teen did not drink water at night or read books. Frankly, Staged Older Teen sounded boring, but I kept that thought to myself. Our youngest is, by nature, slightly more organized and was fine when Staged Younger Teen removed her desk altogether and cleared off her vanity. But she drew the line at the decorative pillows.
She hissed, “You wouldn’t sleep with someone else’s decorative pillows!”
She was right.
I can’t talk about our bedroom or throw pillow situation. I’ll just say I sure hope Staged Mom and Dad have a handful of Ambien to throw back, because good luck sleeping, and try not to stab yourself in the eye with the orchid installment that has taken over the bathroom sink.
In a few weeks we’ll move out, and the Staged Family will permanently move in. We’ll go imagine and envision our new spaces in the house up the road. Spaces that will include giant dogs, all the books, and almost no chance of tuna sashimi.