Like dating but worse

Our house has been on the market for something like three months now. I realize that in a world in which many people exist quite happily with very few (or zero) square feet to call their own, it is sort of obnoxious to complain about the inconvenience of being able to afford a slightly larger house. Yet somehow, we really need to move and it's a total drag. You have to move Little Guy's crib every time you open my bedroom closet. But showing the house with a newborn around is sort of killing me. Every time we get a showing we have to abandon all other pursuits (especially the messy creative ones) and make our little two-bedroom look like it is not inhabited by two cluttery adults, two messy children, and two hairy beasts (meow). Each time we show the house I have to remind myself that all this cleaning will be worth it if the person coming to see it actually makes an offer, and we get to move into the house we're eyeing just down the road. But so far no one has. Yesterday we showed the house twice, and our realtor reports that one prospective buyer said the house was very pretty but just too small (my sentiments exactly) and the other is coming back to give it a second look tomorrow. It feels like a second date, but all I can do is shave my legs, get dressed up, and sit silently while the other party critiques. If I want to say something witty it doesn't matter--all I can do is sit there and look pretty while the other party forms judgement. (Did this happen to the Little Mermaid? I'm getting confused.)

Anyway, in honor of tomorrow's second showing I decided to clean out the toy box. Not that the buyers will look in the toy box, and not that the toy box comes with the house, but at least it's something I can do. Dorothy received several beloved toys for her birthday that contain many small parts and accessories that want to stay together and not get jumbled all together (with cat hair, loose change, and that missing sippy cup lid, it turns out) in the bottom of the toy box. So today I made some drawstring bags with plastic pouches on the front. The toy and accessories will go in the bag, and an index card (or something I printed out, if I have the time and inclination) will slide into the pouch to identify the contents. Now the Polly Pockets and their myriad microscopic high-heeled shoes should never, in theory, be parted again. And once we've outgrown these toys we can reuse the bags for the next great thing.

And as an update, I finished Dorothy's bucket hat (Simplicity 2684) and it's adorable. I sewed on a ribbon and attached a toggle at her request. I reinforced the brim by adding a layer of canvas between the cotton prints and I think this is my favorite method of hat construction yet. It's not rigid or floppy, and unlike fusible backing it won't make the fabric pucker. And it's pretty cheap!