Selling your house is a trying affair. There are so many things you forget to think

about in the heat of the moment when you finally reach the end of your rope with your current accommodations.

One of the joys of buying and selling a home is that it puts you in touch with those wonderful people who have managed to pass the real estate sales exam. They fall into two categories, my agent and scum.

We've had a troop of the latter category going through our place over the past few days; each leaving their business card on the kitchen counter. It would have been nice if one of them had also left a note saying something along the lines of, "I was trying to see if I could use your bathroom towel rod as a ballet pole and I pas-de-deuxed it right out of the wall."

That repair was almost too much my handyman skills, to say nothing of the fear it causes for my wife whenever I pick up a screwdriver.

Another agent brought us an offer so low that I wouldn't have accepted it last year. He had several justifications for the low offer. Of course, first and foremost was the one all real estate agents fall back on, "I am duty-bound to deliver any offer my client might choose to make."

They never finish that statement to make it entirely truthful by saying, "...that I told them they should make."

One of the worst parts of selling a home is the fact that you have to keep the place looking like no one really lives here. You never know when you are going to get a call from your agent telling you that a prospective buyer will be arriving in an hour.

No matter how hard you try, life goes on around here. Dishes get used. Beds get slept in. Showers get taken. It would be OK if it was just Diane and I.We could get the dishes to the dishwasher, the beds made, and the shower stall wiped down. Our son, who seems to be convinced that the entire process has been put in motion to inconvenience him, is another story.

One day last week, I missed a call from our agent asking for a showing time. Instead of waiting for confirmation, the other agent just showed up unannounced. I was in the middle of getting a wall ready to be painted to cover the nail holes in the area that used to hold a display of family pictures. (Apparently, when you are selling your home you are not supposed to let anyone know that the people selling the house have family.) I was also working on the lyrics to three new songs for my show next month, and since we had dismantled my office to make that room look bigger, my laptop and notes were spread across the living room sofa.

Of course, Mike had taken a shower just three or four hours before, so naturally the bathroom floor was still covered in dirty laundry and wet towels.

Thankfully, there is another unit for sale in the building and the agent offered to take his client there first, giving me an opportunity to set a new land speed record trying to make the place look like no one lives here.

I was reasonably successful. The agent and his client came in, took one pass through the place and left. I didn't even have time to get my shoes on and leave the unit so they could look at it alone.

The agent let it slip that he and his friend were having lunch and decided to just have a look at what was on the market.

They weren't really an agent and a potential buyer after all.

I had straightened up, shut off my laptop, and plucked my sons underwear from behind the bathroom door for nothing.

You'd be proud of me. I followed one of the other rules at that point. When you are selling your home you aren't supposed to tell a real estate agent which end of the horse you think he best personifies.

But you can think it.

2006, Gordon Kirkland