Oops, I Did it Again

Well the Showalters are looking into refinancing the homestead.  What with me having given up some significant wages in the last year, and the interest rates being low, it looks like a way to possibly save a few bucks a month.  (What's that?  I could get a job you say?  Hmph.) 

We lined up an appraisal for Monday morning at 11:00 a.m.  Enough time for me to get my house, and myself, in tip-top shape for "the man" to come look at my home and judge the dickens out of it. 

Sunday night we made jokes about how I was going to be home by myself for the appraisal and that maybe I should show a little skin, if you know what I mean (wink, wink), in order to get a better value on the house.  Skin.  Honestly.  That's all we were talking about.  An ankle, maybe an exposed knee.  Get your minds out of the gutter people.  Alright, maybe flashing a hoot had been talked about.  But it was pure jest. 

Or so I thought.

Because honestly, who shows up an hour and fifteen minutes early to an appraisal?  When has a repair person, or the cable guy, or the plumber shown up early - ever?  The answer is: they don't.  If they give you a window they are always near the tail end of that window. 

So I woke up on Monday morning and got my house cleaned, all in my pj's.  Now all my pajamas are cozy, fleecy, utilitarian numbers.  So I often stay in them until I really need to get out of them.  Why get in clean clothes to clean the house and dirty them up?  I think it's good stewardship.  (Although I did have that awkward encounter with one of my piano students who popped by in the morning to reschedule her lesson last week.)  So at 9:45, a generous amount of time before my 11:00 appointment, I went into my bedroom and started changing.  One pair of jeans and a brassiere later came a knock on the door.  I immediately hit the deck like a gun shot had gone off. 

The problem is that several years ago we repainted our bedroom and hung up roman shades on the windows.  We quickly discovered that they are SEE THROUGH from the outside of the house!  It's ridiculous.  So I really need to get some fabric to hang behind them.  But the headboard of the bed covers the front window pretty good so unless you're standing on the porch, looking in to the front window, you really can't see much.  So I haven't worried about it even though I probably should get it taken care of. 

But who knows what the early appraiser saw.  Did he decide to do a little checking around before knocking on my door?  I can just hear him saying to his young son who was with him, "Son, this is why you don't call if you are going to show up early."  In the end it was a frazzled and embarrassed woman who answered the front door, having exposed herself to the working man. 

And no, it didn't seem to help the appraisal, which makes me feel all the dirtier.  Guess he didn't like what he saw.  Ugh.