Mi Casa es Su Casa…or Somebody’s Casa…I Hope

So far, the most stressful part of building a new house has been the process of trying to get rid of the old one. My condo, which I purchased new in 2004, is now officially For Sale, and besides knowing that strangers are going to be peering into my closets and cupboards and snooping around my bookshelves and refrigerator (so many condiments! so little fruit!) there are a host of other nerve-rattling issues at hand.

For one thing, I have to keep the place perpetually and unnaturally clean—no more stand-up snacking in the kitchen and leaving a puddle of crumbs on the floor. No more avoiding the cat box for 5-7 days. My kitchen smells like bleach. My sinks are toothpaste-globless. I can sanitarily lick the bathroom floor (not that I’d want to). I can see through the shower door. If I need something to wear, I actually have to look in the closet, since I’m no longer maintaining what Urban Dictionary.com calls a “floordrobe.” Most extraordinarily, I arise each day, make my bed, and daintily arrange the throw pillows in an eye-pleasing pattern (stripes/solids/stripes/solids). It’s almost like they planted the For Sale sign in my front yard and I turned into my mother.

Prepping to sell the condo, I did some research about “staging” it for sale—which is pretty much what it sounds like. “Stop thinking of your house as your home; think ‘this is a product to be sold, like a box of cereal on the grocery store shelf’” one site advised. The same web page suggested that I arrange all my coffee mugs with the handles facing the same direction and alphabetize my spice jars. WTF?! People see that, and they’re going to think the place is possessed by the ghost of Julia Roberts’ husband from Sleeping with the Enemy. I’ll spring for the expensive cat litter that clumps together and makes poo smell like pinecones, but I am NOT alphabetizing kitchen supplies.

The Bellingham real estate market is a little saturated right now, but my place has a lot to offer. Even if it weren’t my house and it was a box of cereal, I’d still think it was more Kellogg’s than Food Club. The location is prime—a two-minute walk to stores and restaurants, Padden Creek trail, and Fairhaven Park—and my neighborhood is clean. There’s even a nice woman named Joanie who walks around collecting cans and bottles, and the bi-monthly 4 a.m. street-sweeping keeps Old Fairhaven Parkway sparkly. It’s generally pretty quiet here, except on Sunday mornings when the church across the street is blasting its live Jesus rock. Forgiveness and eternal joy have never sounded so unappealing.

I also have an attached garage (a cozy home for the Vanbulance), a fireplace, and gorgeous custom-made built-ins created by James Bradbury of Sycamore Woodworking and Building. My books and pets and craft supplies have always felt safe and warm here. If the site on 17th and Donovan hadn’t become available when it did, I would be staying in this condo much longer. But one home is enough, and this one will be perfect for someone else. Throw pillows not included.

Boise Naked Yoga Home Design Consultants, Incorporated, Wanda Teetlebound, CEO

Approximately 3 decades ago, I was traumatized on the squareball court at Roosevelt Elementary School by a brown-haired fourth grader in round glasses who called me “little girl.” Shortly thereafter, she became my best friend. Besides swallowing the tiny white car from my Game of Life and co-authoring “Grrr…Monster Poems Galore” with me, Amy B. has also been my companion in countless projects and adventures including, but not limited to, home design.

I recently unearthed one of the many floor plans that I designed with Amy during our dream house phase in 5th or 6th grade, a time (c. 1979) when we were weirdly enchanted by the idea of sunken living rooms, indoor hot tubs, and glass grand pianos suspended from the ceiling by chains. We also appear to have been oddly prepared to house entire extended Chinese families, as most of our plans have 5 or 6 bedrooms.

Although the actual floor plan for my new real home is done (and it doesn’t have a hot tub or a hanging grand piano), there are many interior design issues about which I require consultation, things that are more fun to talk about than SIPS and French drains. I needed a few days to luxuriate in the fantasy home inside my head, and to fill it up with warm colors and lots of throw pillows. So I headed to Boise, Idaho, to confer with Amy about the house and its many needs.

Amy just got back from the Great Wall of China (not pictured...that's me, Copan, and Beso at Diversion Dam on the Boise River), so her consultation included tips on channeling the chi in my new house. I’m not really into the whole feng shui business, probably because I’m just too lazy to study up on the best way to arrange my waste paper baskets for ultimate health and good luck. I do wish there was a way to fung-shooey my refrigerator so that I’d be attracted to celery and low-fat cottage cheese instead of leftover pizza. Instead I learned I’m supposed to consult a ba-gua chart to select the harmonious placement of rooms; I should use red paint in places where I want strength, and I should create an altar or sacred space in my home that includes elements of water, earth, wind and fire, and “supports, focuses, and enhances my inner being as well as the dreams I am manifesting in my physical world.” I wonder if a wet bar with a looping, continuous recording of “Shining Star” would count.

Besides her feng shui expertise, Amy also has a solid grasp of the Colorful Me Beautiful principles (we’re both Summers), so we talked about how to choose paints that would complement my complexion and hair color, while at the same time, shaping and toning my thighs and adding definition to my arms. I’m still planning on a lavender bedroom, a livingroom-kitchen-dining room in deep blues, rich reds, and lots of wood; one yellow guest room and one sage green one, and bathrooms with small mirrors, low lighting, and lots of big fluffy towels for my guests.

We’ve got the ambience all put together, me, Amy, and my imagination. Now we just have to build the house that goes with it.