Light and airy

"Just try and make it look light and airy," was Per's mothers advice regarding getting ready to show our apartment to a potential tenant. Which seems like reasonable enough advice, except if you had seen the state of this place yesterday.

"Light and airy" would have been the last words you would have chosen to describe it. You would have laughed, loud and long, at the irony of trying to apply that phrase to our home. You could hardly walk in here. There were half-filled boxes everywhere, cords criss-crossing the floor. Every available surface (couches, windowsills, counters) was covered in piles of STUFF. We had been hauling things down from the attic all day, sorting and throwing things away. We were repeatedly tripping over things, knocking over stacks of things, and generally swearing and shaking our fists at things. I am ashamed how much stuff we have dragged into this apartment over the years. Ashamed. But it was such a gradual process, it was hard to see it happening.

Anyway, we got the call yesterday evening- the perfect tenant wanted to come see the place at 11 am today. Why the perfect tenant, you may ask? Because he rented the flat in Uppsala from Per's parents for the past 4 years, and was RELIABLE. The number one characteristic one looks for in a tenant. Also, it may bear mentioning that we are supposed to move in exactly one month and had not addressed the tenant-finding problem as of yet. Our mission became clear, in a heavy instant of resignation. It was to convert these 38.5 square metres of chaos into a restful, LIGHT, and AIRY space during the following 14 hours. (minus a considerable chunk of those for sleep)

The running around like maniacs/chickens-with-their-heads-cut-off commenced. Numerous trips to the "grovsoprum" ("the big garbage room")were made. Things were stuffed, shoved, pushed and crammed into cupboards. Grimy finger-printed surfaces were scrubbed with Jif cleaner, which, as an aside, I must say I cannot sing the praises of loud enough. Every time I use Jif to clean away some dirt that seems impossible to remove, it confounds me by doing the job ten-fold, and cheerfully. I find myself saying things like "I love Jif. This Jif is really something. What would I do without Jif? Wow, it REALLY works. The grime just melts away! Thank you Jif, once again." You get the picture. (end of the Jif aside)

We fell asleep at some point, mid-work. Per got up at 5:30 am and continued. I stumbled out of bed at 7, and began vacuuming in my sleep.

Somehow, by 11:00 when Potential Reliable Tenant walked up the stairs and through the door, we had managed, with seconds to spare, (and I do mean seconds) to be clean and wearing clean clothes and standing in what could, miraculously, almost be described as a "light and airy" flat.

One would never have known, as a Potential Reliable Tenant, could never have imagined, the events of the preceding hours. It makes me think all kinds of thoughts about appearances and reality. Also about a silly old saying about a duck "gliding along smoothly on the surface but paddling like mad underneath."

So we are celebrating. He wants to rent the place, and we are relieved and overjoyed. We drank some wine and ate some chocolate. We need a nap. Especially since all that stuff we crammed, shoved, pushed and stuffed into cupboards needs to be un-crammed and dealt with...


But it will be the last time, since I vowed solemnly today to never again own anything more than one little green pea.