We had our house appraised last week while refinancing our mortgage. I’m pretty excited about the refinancing – we are saving good money and really should have done it a couple of years ago – but I was less than thrilled about the appraisal. Why? Well, a lot hinged on it. We have done a fair bit of work on our house these past eight years, but it still needs siding work, the laundry room is a minor-disaster, and the interior isn’t finished.
I had three numbers in my mind: 1) the “can’t be below this” amount, 2) the “well, not bad” amount, and 3) the “yes! reach for that dough” amount. To get as close to #3 as possible, we cleaned our house non-stop for a week. We weren’t just looking for clean here; we were going for all-out perfect. It was time to highlight the positives and sweep the negatives under the rug. Or behind furniture. Or behind that painting hanging the hallway. You know what I’m talking about.
One big negative is our laundry room. Plumbing issues when we bought the house forced us to jackhammer up the floor and tear out part of a door jam. When the plumbing was fixed, replacing the two destroyed tiles and re-framing the wall wasn’t really on the top of the list. So we haven’t done it. For seven years.
Let’s be honest, there really wasn’t anything we were going to be able to do about that on short notice, so it was very important to make sure the laundry room was as good as possible.
I should probably mention that we have a regular, old-fashioned laundry room, not one of those pinterest-beauties that is big enough to live in. When laundry starts to pile up, it looks like junky mess. When we get really behind in laundry, it looks like a scene from Hoarders. And well, it was certainly Hoarders territory the night before the appraisal.
Our solution? We put that shit in my trunk.
No, really. I drove our dirty laundry to work with me. Here is photographic proof of my shame.
You guys know I’m not really ashamed of stashing the laundry in the trunk. If I was, this would be a pretty crappy post to write. Or a self-imposed punishment, I guess. No, I’m pretty proud of our lazy-family solution. I am ashamed of one thing though – the laundry is still in my trunk. When it was time to wash a load, we just walked out and retrieved a handful from the car. As you are reading this that laundry is probably hanging out in the parking deck across the street from where I work.
This is real life, ya’ll.