wc1059 /NaNo/Writing Doodle

The house was cleared of the superfluous things that had always occupied it. There was no sign my grandmother had ever lived in it, much less raised two generations of xxx here.  

I spent hours filling holes in plaster, reframing doors, and pulling up the ancient carpet.  When I was a kid, the wood floors were considered dated, so she covered them with a sage green carpet that was warm on my feet and didn't squeak when I traipsed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  The color original  of the floorboards was warm and polished to a high sheen; there's nothing quite like real wood.  The laminates might be the rage, but in total truth, they just don't hold a candle next to the real thing.

Grandma wanted a full house inspection done before the house was sold.  She didn't want any issues for the next owner to contend with.

"Bernie, if you treat people honestly and with integrity, you can never go wrong," she said.

While it was true, I was the one having a hard time with her selling the house.  It was the one constant in my life.  So little changed about it that when times were tough, I knew it would always be there waiting for me.  Sure, my bedroom had morphed and changed over the years and the last several it served as her craft and computer room, but there was still enough floor space for me to use if I really needed to sleep here.

My dad had a crew double check the plumbing, ensuring there were no leaks and all the drains worked correctly. The crew that came to check the electric installed additional gfi plugs in the kitchen.  Ground fault interupts weren't the standard seventy or eighty years ago when the house was built, but it is something people do expect now.  for safety reasons, there was no reason not to.

There was an elm tree in the back of the house where I carved my initials as a kid.  My dad and uncle had, too.  Their initials were much higher on the trunk than mine were; I was so afraid of hurting the trunk when I carved mine you almost couldn't see them in a week.  I wonder if they're still there?

While I mowed the yard and put fertilizer on it, Grandma put vanilla on each of the incandescent bulbs.  In the nineteen-seventies there had been a theory among real estate agents that the smell of vanilla made a home smell homey. I also knew that the only reason we ever had frozen cookie dough in the house was because she always baked at least two or three dozen cookies at every open house.  again the goal was for the house to smell like home.  

I still bake cookies like Grandma, from freezer to the oven to the waiting hordes.  Come to think of it, it's also how I bake bread.  There seems to be a pattern here.

Grandma rented a U-Haul for all of her furniture so the house could be staged by a professional using rented furniture.

"Why don't you just leave your stuff out?" I asked.  Everything looked comfortable and fitted well into the space available.

"To get top dollar, it needs to be as current as possible.  People these days don't have an imagination.  If it isn't staged correctly, no one will think it is a place worthy of making a life." She sighed. "People used to walk through a house and envision what their things looked like.  The work they wanted to do on a place so that could put their own mark on it.  Really make it their own.  Now they want upscale cookie cutter."

She had drawn the line at remodeling the kitchen.  The cabinets were original and had been custom built for the space and were cherry wood.  The butcher block counter tops got replaced about every twenty or twenty five years, but that was her only concession.

She rented stainless steel appliances to make the place feel more trendy and upscale but that was as far as it went.

Why rent them?  Because they weren’t going to be part of the contract when the house was sold, but people get upset if they look at a house that doesn’t have appliances.  Her old Maytag refrigerator still worked just fine and her Kenmore oven was more than adequate, but both were white.

After all of the work was done and the final pillow had been plumped she said, “I just don’t think I can keep it this nice during open house season.”

“Stay with me after tonight,” I said.  “There’s a spare bedroom. And I’d love the company”

Actually, Grandma would get the main bedroom and I’d take the spare. 

She closed her eyes and nodded. "This is just so much more work than I thought."

"Do we want to pack your bag tonight or do it tomorrow?"

"Tonight. In fact, I don't want to leave so much as a dirty sock out where someone can see it or a used tissue."

The small duffel contained the bits and pieces she had to have and the next day I'd come back and bring even more.  Whatever it took, she had said over and over.  She wanted a fresh start in Boca complete with a pool boy named Pablo and frozen adult beverages by the pool every afternoon.

"I'll meet  you at the house at dinner time," I said. "What do you think about Chinese chicken salads with almonds and cranberries?" I needed to change some sheets, get clean towels for the bathroom, and clear some drawer space for her before she arrived.

"You're good to me, kid," she said.  

"Bernie, I don't want to kick you out of your bedroom," she said.

"Grandma, it's the better bed," I said. "I don't mind the other at all."  The spare room had a futon sofa; not great as a sofa or as a bed - the mediocre of both worlds.

She looked at the room, spic and span, and as free of dog hair as was possible without getting rid of the dog.  

"What can I do for you?" she asked. "You've done so much for me lately." 

"Nothing to do," I said. "Except maybe set the table for dinner."

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