What have they done to my house?!

My parents sold the house I grew up in and moved several years ago. My mom was heartbroken — this was the house she’d raised her children in. I was sad to see my parents leave, of course, but I’d said goodbye to the house long before that. Seeing it turned over to another family wasn’t an overly emotional event for me at the time.

However… it has been brought to my attention that this house is once again on the market, and through the magic of the Internets (a.k.a. a series of tubes), I found the realty company’s photos.

Now, I fully realize it’s not my house anymore, I haven’t lived there since 1990 (well, and that brief period in 1994 after college). And I fully realize that all homeowners do things to houses to suit their own tastes, to make them uniquely theirs.

But this is just making me sad. Look what they’ve done! The Disturbingly Ornate Antique Jampacked Christmas Fairy threw up all over the house!! And aren’t you supposed to, you know, put away most of your decor and things, and go kind of minimalist, if you’re trying to sell your house? I guess these people never heard that little tidbit of advice.

Oh yes… this one was MY room. Now it’s junky floral — and it is a pretty damn small room for all the crap that’s apparently in it. Under that yellow paint are layers of pink (the original, when I was very small), light blue, black with Jackson Pollock white drops (when my parents went out of town for a week; boy did I get in trouble for that), and also paintings that both I and my youngest brother painted directly on the walls.

My parents’ bedroom. Boy, that bed almost doesn’t fit, does it? And what’s with the “JUS CUZ” on the wall? That’s just weird.

The living room. I’m not sure if they could fit any more furniture in here. And what’s going on in that back corner? Are those bows?

I’m not certain, but I think that this used to be my dad’s study.

And I think this was our lovely covered patio room – big windows, tile floor, very light outdoorsy feel. Ha!

Standing in the kitchen, looking at the breakfast area.

And standing in the breakfast area, looking into the kitchen. Are those easter eggs hanging from the ceiling? Or is it fruit? And they obviously don’t do any actual cooking — there’s an Oriental rug in the kitchen! That makes me really sad — this is the kitchen where my mom taught me everything I know about cooking. This was a kitchen filled with love and knowledge and a lot of spilled flour. Now it’s just decorative.