My poor mom gets no respect. She’s the Rodney Dangerfield of moms. (She’ll tell you, too.) My brother and I decided many years ago to start calling out to her as ‘Maaaaaaaaaaaaam’ in a high-pitched farm animal voice whenever she left the room. We mix up the pitch and tonality, trading off until we’ve maximized the annoyance factor. We are so ungrateful.
Yet today, I want to use this space to give props to my mom. Thanks to her unending love for and devotion to all things HGTV, I do not fear what the prospective realtor will say when she scopes out my house tonight. There are still a couple of things I need to change, like removing the giant glass vases holding christmas ornaments from the top of the kitchen cabinets (don’t judge! They look nice. In December.) for example, but overall I think it looks pretty good. Mom always puts the TV on that channel when she is with A, so I’m hoping he’ll do a walkthrough and suggest some changes before the realtor arrives.
I hope things go quickly, and yet I don’t. The idea of paying the mortgage alone is daunting, but it’s heartbreaking to consider moving out of A’s first home. Given that about twelve houses in my subdivision went up for sale last week, I think I still have time to come to terms with it.