Posted by: thewoobdog | October 20, 2008

Appraisal

Yeah.  I know.  I couldn’t even come up with a good title.

We’re adding on to our house – IF the house appraises for enough to get the bank loan (and given the housing market these days, that is by no means a given, since so much of appraising relies on finding comparable home sales and appraisers across the nation are bemoaning the fact that nothing is selling).  Anyway.  So, before I even submit all our final signed-in-blood loan documents Friday morning I get a call from the appraiser – “Is Monday good for you?  How about around 10:00 Monday morning?”

Oh, sure.  Yeah.  Monday’s fine.  Great.  Peachy.

Have you ever looked at your house through the eyes of an appraiser?  You suddenly notice all the clutter and accumulated crap that your eyes have passed over unseeingly for the last three years.  You realize that if you want your house to appear light and bright and airy and larger-than-maybe-it-really-is-since-it’s-not-a-very-big-house, you’d darn well better make sure there’s as much open space as possible.  Sure, you know there’s nowhere to put anything and your bread and crackers and cereal are in the microwave because you’re out of cabinet space and you have to store your laundry detergent against the dining room wall because there’s no closet near the washer, but you don’t really want to highlight things like that to the appraiser, so you clean.

I kid you not, our entire weekend (except the tiny bit of Saturday afternoon that we spent celebrating my grandmother’s 90th birthday – go, Grandma!) was spent working on the house.  It hasn’t been cleaned like this since we built it three years ago.  TBear even vacuumed the baseboards and ceilings and scrubbed the stair risers on his hands and knees (my husband is such a treasure).

Not that we’re pigs or anything, but I am working and going to grad school at the moment and TBear is working full-time and teaching a math class two evenings a week as an adjunct professor and teaching kung fu to a bunch of screaming 5-12 year olds two nights a week, so maybe we don’t stay on top of the cleaning quite like we could.  Keep in mind that the following pictures are not representative of the house as a whole and are presented as the worst of the worst, with before and after.  Further note that all of these are in the bedroom, because that’s where the worst always is since no one but us ever sees it (and hence it is not subjected to the frantic ‘guests-coming-over-quick-hide-the-mess’ cleaning the rest of the house gets fairly regularly):

Top of TBear’s dresser

1018081919 1020080711b

Top of my nightstand:

1018081919a 1019081114

Chair in the corner of the bedroom (this one’s the worst):

1018081919b 1020080711

*whew* Glad that’s over.  Now if we can just keep it that way and not pig it up again…

I think the appraisal went well (see, we really hit the cleaning hard because our appraiser was a woman and women notice that stuff) – the lady loved Woobie (and was as appalled as I was when Woobie fell off the bed in the guest room and I had to take her to the vet to have her leg checked – she’s fine, btw, just a luxated patella, which is fairly common in the breed) and loved the yard and the layout of the house, etc, etc, etc.  Still, it’s not like she’d tell us if she hated it, so we will wait with bated breath to hear the result…  She did want me to email her and let her know how Woobie was doing, so that means we connected, right?  Right?

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Responses

  1. That’s some fine decluttering.

    I love how your dog falls off the bed and you take her to the vet right away. My daughter falls off a balance beam and I wait 10 days to find out her arm is broken. Yeah, I’m awesome.

  2. bythelbs – (Why do I even bother to put your name? You know I’m responding to you. It’s not like there’s anyone else’s comment I COULD be responding to)

    HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! I actually DID laugh out loud when I read your comment.

    Just remember – you didn’t SEE your daughter’s fall AND she didn’t seem to be in unusual amounts of pain. AND she can talk, so you assume she can tell you if she’s in unusual amounts of pain.

    In all honesty, had the appraiser NOT been there and seen the whole thing and been so worried, I probably wouldn’t have taken Woobie to the vet right away – I would have given it a bit of time to see if she improved. LOL.

  3. How the HECK did THAT comment get so long? (yes, now re-read that sentence and stress both ‘heck’ and ‘that’ – it’s hard, but do-able)


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