A House is Just a House
Unless it’s yours. And unless you’re showing it. This is the first time we’ve been through this particular trial, and I have to say, I don’t care for it. Complete strangers will be descending into our humble abode any moment now, to poke through closets, open cabinets, and dissect our little corner of the planet. I’m not at all comfortable with the possibility of someone I’ve never met gazing into my closet or my medicine cabinet, all the while thinking to themselves “Hmmmmm, so she’s taking Verapamil….”, or “Wow! A fertility monitor!”. It feels like an enormous invasion of privacy, and while I know logically that this is all part of the home-selling experience, I’m just praying for it to be over.
There ?s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with ?t.
The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
