“Everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.”                                                                                                 – Mark Twain  Spring is a season Calgarians only read about.  It won’t stop snowing.   We watch with rising pique as it snows and melts. Snows and melts. Snows and doesn’t melt. Snows again. We are beginning to feel like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, our steady stream of grievances matching our unstylish fashion choices, while throwing in a few gritty observations about gnarly traffic patterns and inconvenient potholes. We ache for the arrival of buds, for the trees to blossom, for the pushing of little green hands out of the ground.  Incrementally, and for a brief moment in between, we may hear birds sing, a mosquito buzz (how on earth did it get in here and where on earth did it come from?), and we feel as though we might break out in song and dance. We smile. We retire our worn puffy coats, stained with spilled coffee, holes in the pockets. We stop our vitamin D supplement and UV lamp therapy. We start to feel vibrant and alive. There is a glimmer of hope.   Then it snows again. A direct hit to the gut. It’s like a wacky weather version of Waiting for Godot. What does spring think it’s doing? winter fool’s spring second winter  spring of deception third winter mud season summer We are a land of chronic weather complainers. I read one study that said that 100% of people complaining about the weather didn’t change the weather at all. Which is why I feel bad for the weather.   We have endured so many, many long weeks of dissonance. We’re cold and awkward, wearing sunglasses we don’t need, shivering in coats not thick enough. But one thing we Calgarians understand, it’s that winter doesn’t end simply because we’re tired of it – and  that moisturizers are a part of wellness. April really is the month that sucks the most, partly because it’s not supposed to. This is supposed to be when it all starts getting better. But here we are anyway, in the heart of Spring in Deception when everything should be blooming green. High in optimism, low in reality.  Bare branches and cold ground show uglier with spikes of green striving to make inroads in the frozen ground, like no one told them winter is still here. Dry scruffy patches of lawn, the colour of a dirty martini, only stand to emphasize the intestinal 50 shades of grey of the sky.  Whining away the hours. Weather stories are boring. When we talk about the weather, it’s not because the weather is meaningless, but that it reminds us we have so much less control over our lives than we pretend to have.  Maybe it’s just my mood: enduring my four hundredth cold of the year, in bed sending out photos of falling snow to anyone clever enough to be suntanning somewhere on a beach, too despondent to binge buy swimsuits that I’m not even sure I’ll ever get the chance to wear.   There are many worse things than complaining, but it really bothers me when others are better at it than me. Callit spring. A practical joke.  It’s been a very long winter. I’m calling it grateful anguish, because nature and winter can offer us time for reflection. And hopefully, gratitude. Everyone experiences a “wintering”season at one time or the other, and as Katherine May describes, it doesn’t always come in winter. Every season plays its part. It’s more about what’s happening in your inner world. Some winters happen in the sun,” she writes, and “wintering is a metaphor for those phases in our life when we feel frozen out or unable to make the next step, and that that can come at any time, in any season, in any weather; that it has nothing to do with the physical cold.”  It’s like waiting for something to land, waiting for the moment when we would come to a first tentative answer.  It requires taking an honest moment to look at where we’ve been, what we’ve done, what has been done to us, what we’re searching for, what we don’t have. Life moves forward by loss as well as by gain, by letting go and by holding on. We are here to walk through the mud. We learn our lessons by going through intense life experiences, not by skipping them. Sometimes you get a gift that you appreciate, but also hate. Like a sweater someone spent hours knitting for you in a colour that looks awful with your complexion.  That’s how I’m feeling about the intermittent snow outside, just like that unflattering sweater. But we all have to wear that sweater. And thank goodness. Because boy, do we need it.

There is something in me that mistrusts pleasure. Or sanity, for that matter.

I mean, why sit by the lovely resort pool when I can careen half a mile over slippery, sharp rocks to get the other end of the beach during high tide? Or walk through 40 different kinds of mud through the inhospitable misty and cold landscape to the Brontes’ weather-beaten Haworth? Or take a gentle bike ride around a picturesque village, when I, burdened with a jug of water and a granola bar, can instead, walk aimlessly for hours, passing no other miserable, sunburned walker sweating in a moisture-wicking tee shirt, looking like a particularly ill-used hostage. 

I have heard that there are very valid reasons for walking – like spending quality time with a friend, purchasing a cappuccino, or watching ducks being stupid in a pond.

I am also told that there are those who prefer to amble towards some place, and when they (soon) get there, sit down.

And when booking a holiday they are apt to focus on whether or not the property provides an adequate electric kettle and if their room has an ocean view. Where their idea of physical activity is to walk from the bed to the bar fridge and back. And where they best define a holiday as “lying down in the sun like soft pizza-dough with a glass of wine and a book, getting up five to seven days later.”

No, it seems I prefer, like the royal family, “walking around in terrible weather wearing the thickest socks imaginable”, every day’s ramble showing me fresh wonders and new blisters.

I find you can tell a lot about a person by where they walk, because as author Rebecca Solnit points out, walking remains “essentially unimproved since the dawn of time.”

Walking, the slowest form of travel, is the quickest route to our more authentic selves – or of not getting much of anywhere. Or lost.

Walking is personal. Cautious roamers to power striders. Some strut. Some cowboy swagger. Some wander around like a lost spectre. Some walk like a kan chiong spider. Some walk the Paris Fashion Week runway. A tightrope. The Camino. Marathons. 

Being an unapologetic voyeur gives you time to reflect on your life choices. Of pondering particular abilities that don’t count for much. Marvelling on the uncanny ability to mangle lyrics beyond recognition. On questionable fashion choices. Of being freshly showered and more or less odourless. 

Wandering around alone doesn’t look like the kind of leisure some would consider time “well spent.” Yet it is time some of us would defend as valuable. It is valuable for its own sake, not because it prepares us for more important tasks. It requires no special skill other than an openness to enjoy things as they arise.

In our age of constant distraction and restless productivity, our one task is to care less about external validation. “Likes”. “Followers”. It might be better spent accompanied by an espresso, a library lamp, and classical music.  

Reflection requires courage. It’s thoughtful, and it’s deliberate. With the right mindset, every walk is a pilgrimage, a doorway to the new and revelatory.

So in the final greige coloured days of winter/spring resembling a grumbling old man, when one can walk without layering in a crowd of materials, I walk.

For the uninitiated, the ‘ick’ is a turn-off — multiplied by 10.  We’re talking dried-out popcorn in a media room that kids inevitably try to eat; stale pasta in a jar on the kitchen counter; fake food plated up as if it’s ready to eat; or glossy, crumbly bread on a dining room table.

Preaching the houseplant gospel When a space is filled with a bunch of fake plants, like dusty pink fabric flowers that smell like potpourri and look as real as bad taxidermy. It makes the space feel ‘pretend,’ and does nothing to inspire the potential buyers.It’s like complicated wallpaper, eager to entertain, but all too frequently unable to oblige. No good story started with a salad. It’s become a staging cliché: a glass of wine sitting out on the kitchen island or a labelless alcohol bottle with colored water in it next to some martini glasses or a champagne bottle and glasses on a tub ledge. You never know who the potential buyer may be, so it may be best to avoid staging with alcohol altogether – unless maybe on a beautifully styled bar cart. Surprisingly unhelpful  Table cloths are great for living in a home and entertaining. They can be beautiful, provide texture for a holiday table setting, or protection for the table itself. But they are terrible options for selling a home. Just because it fits, doesn’t mean it fits.Out-of-scale furniture can go two ways; pieces that don’t adequately fill the room or furniture that overfills and overwhelms a space. For example, out-of-scale furniture could be a huge sofa that dominates a living space or a small rug in a large room. Cuddle up and cozy down Nothing says extended adolescence the way improperly made beds do.   When styling a bed, start at the bottom – the bedskirt. The bedding should not be wrinkled, off kilter or showing the bedrails; made neatly enough to win a drill sergeant’s approval. Contents may have shifted during flight. To sell well is to let go well, and it all starts with a bag of shirts.When people are touring a home, they’re going to open cabinets and peek into closets. So when clothes are not colour coordinated and the garments aren’t folded consistently, it’s an “ick”.  THE SYSTEM? Hang clothing by category first—sleeveless, short sleeve, long sleeve, sweaters, jackets, etc. Then within each category, segment by colour, beginning with white.Toss the jumble of plastic and wire hangers. Change the hangers to a consistent style and colour.  Similarly, kitchen cupboards, pantries or bar fridges that aren’t organized is also a huge ‘ick’. If taking out a baking sheet involves removing six other kitchen items to be able to access it, things need to get organized – and probably purged. TIP: Establish a zone for each category of food and items in the pantry. For example, have a section for baking, small appliances, snacks, cereal, pasta and rice, etc. Keeping up with the Grout Lines  Although you don’t want the bathroom to look abandoned, it’s also important to remove any signs of someone else using it. People view bathrooms as personal and private spaces. Declutter and put away all personal items…but if there really has to be tissues out – do it in style.Othewise, things could eventually go, well, down the toilet.

Preparing a home for sale for most people is kind of like expecting them to diagram the molecular structure of polyurethane and as painful as herding porcupines with their elbows. But it doesn’t have to be. The process of staging is very much like the process of writing. It’s about finding a sense of order to things. Fit. Organization. Flow.   The experience of walking through a home on the market, one room at a time, should be akin to uncovering a beautiful gift by lifting thin layers of tissue paper one at a time, making hearts flutter like a clean sheet on a long line.

The seller’s one task is to make friends with reality. The reality of overflowing closets, obsolete cords, mismatched lightbulbs, and fringe curtains – what some might call, “disturbing to others”.

As real estate agents, you are therapist, confessor, business advisor and risk accessor to all the citizen pilgrims that cross your threshold. Thus, you probably could use any help you can get. Which is where I come in – armed with an arsensal of picture hangers and two decades of experience. Here is what I know for sure.

Light fixtures: Are the jewelry of the home. Takeaway: Swapping dated light fixtures out for contemporary, statement-lighting can take 20 years off the house.

Too Many Accessories: Carefully styled accessories can give ahome character, but too many can look chaotic. It instantly signals ‘cheap’ even when the accessories are super expensive. Takeaway: Less is more.

Collections: Turn collections into décor. A collection of almost anything can add personality to a home. Takeaway: Anything from old sporting items to vintage quilts to vinyl records.

Paint Colours. There’s a reason neutrals like whites, cremes, beiges and grays are recommended. Takeaway: As boring as it may be, light neutrals simply photograph better, and the goal is to get people in the door.

Hanging art: A gallery wall is an great way to give a blank wall a bold treatment. Gathering pieces with a similar subject matter will read more like an art installation rather than a collection of individual pieces. Takeaway: It is a clever way to incorporate small art pieces that can look minuscule on bigger walls.

Baskets: Can you ever have enough baskets? Takeaway: They come in handy no matter the room and what goes in them; from a plant in a living room to stuffed toys in a bedroom to cosmetics in a bathroom cabinet.

Plants are the secret to great décor. Not only do they add sculptureal interest in a space, but it makes the room feel more organic and close to nature. Takeaway: A vase filled with branches is an easy way to bring life and vibrancy to a room instead of the constant expense of fresh flowers.

Big furniture:: Many people are afraid of big accessories or furniture because they think it will overwhelm the space. But in many circumstances, their items end up being too small. Takeaway: To compensate for their mistake, they will often add more items to fill the space, which can lead to the space looking more cluttered.

If you don’t have a leg to stand on, you can’t put your foot down.

Two weeks ago, I stepped on a sewing needle. As I yanked it out of my foot, two inches of black thread dangling mercilessly from the end, I thought the initial “Owwww” was the end of it. But serendipitously waking up 12 hours later, I realized that the productive end of the needle may actually still be embedded in my foot.  Hobbling down two flights of stairs sans one boot and a thick sock at 1 A.M., I drove myself to Emergency amidst another Calgary snowstorm. 3 1/2 hours later and three x-rays, yes, there certainly was a portion of the needle in my foot. Now a podiatrist referral, an appointment, and surgery scheduled a week later.   “It’s a boy!”, my surgeon announced enthusiastically. Healthy, intact and 3/8” long. Not hesitating to warp personalities and events for my own needs, the sum of birthing four children was less painful than the surgical freezing.  All rise now.  Not so quick.  After we discussed potential birthing announcements, the surgeon sewed up what I imagined was a deep slice in the bottom my foot, bandaged me up, and sent me home, flamingo-like, instructing me to not operate heavy machinery for an indeterminate time. Which is where I don’t stand right now, desiccated in the lacuna of my bedroom, watching my philodendron grow a new leaf.  Surgeon’s last words: “This situation may alter your personality.”Me: “Thank God.” Little means of support.  There is speculation that “not a leg to stand on” originally referred to furniture, as there used to be four-legged, three-legged and even one-legged stools. All of these had functionality, but a stool without a single leg to stand on was incapable of supporting you. Eventually it became a metaphor for losing positions in arguments, debates and court cases, or the ability to gracefully walk to the bathroom, moving like a sofa down the street.   Sense and disability. What would Jane Austen do?  Home isolation has its ups and downs – one day you’re on a high cleaning baseboards with a Q-tip, and the next day you are drinking vodka and watching squirrels out of your bedroom window. First, I’m capable of any sacrifice only if it doesn’t last too long.Secondly, I hate being confined, even if it is for my own good. And a blessing to the entire western world.   Two, after all, was the normal compliment.  For thorough-going gloom, it is hard to beat Schopenhauer, who having a lot of time on his hands as he mostly was either ignored or disparaged, mourned, “Life is an unpleasant business. I have resolved to spend mine reflecting on it.” Knowing that I was stuck here for a while, I remembered hearing a guru say that we should always focus on inner peace. And to achieve this we should always finish things we start. So I methodically hobbled through my house to find things I’d started and hadn’t finished. I finished off a bottle of Chardonnay, a bag of Doritos, a pack of Mars Bars, a cylinder of potato chips, a quart of ice cream and a box of chocolates. In the end, I was quite winded.  In general I find it is quite unnecessary to be grumpy if you have a chance not to. I realized I needed to find fortification when I was just tempted to binge-watch nine seasons of Seinfeld, to make friends with reality. I mean, is it alright to adopt airport rules and have a drink at 9 AM?  When life goes into overtime, it’s easy to take liberties. (I am sometimes amazed by the depths of my own self-pity.)

A summons to intentional awe.   Awe. it’s a powerful concept. There is probably nothing better to do for the state of your mind and one leg, than go find some awe.  First, you need to pay attention. There is no detail too small to pay attention to, observe and value. Now that I was in the house all day, I was thankful for the sunshine through the windows. I marvelled at the neighbour’s still beaming purple Christmas lights, the afterglow of a sunset, a paragraph in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, and reminisced on the myriad landscape greens of Ireland. You can always found something beautiful to appreciate. When was the last time you looked at anything, solely, and concentratedly, and for its own sake? After all, the incidents of our lives are not terribly important in the big scheme of things.I mean, is anybody even interested in our weird, unfathomable, ordinary everyday lives? Things are more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial, and the important doesn’t seem to matter much. But the ‘nowness’ of everything is absolutely wondrous. That’s all I have for today, unless you want to know more about stepping on a needle, and I’m going to assume that’s a no.  Oh well, I’m just getting ready to not go out. Night is closing in and I’ve got all those lima beans to arrange.

Viewing a home should be as blissful as walking into a Crate & Barrel. Everything is cozy and chic, making buyers want to sit down and stay a while. But prior to a showing, sometimes sellers forget to do small, but important tasks, which can make all the difference. Last minute CHECKLIST Check the thermostat and set it to an optimal temperature – nothing too hot or too cold. You don’t want buyers rushing through the house because they are uncomfortable. Put away cleaning items. You don’t want buyers to think about any cleaning or maintenance.  Yes, buyers look inside the closets. Even if the closet is clean and organized, open doors creates visual clutter. Keeping doors closed will ensure the buyer has a positive first impression of the room. Remove small appliances off kitchen countertops. (I’m looking at you, toaster and coffee pot.)  Turn on all under-cabinet lights, floor and table lamps. Bulbs should be about 2700-3000 K.  Put down toilet seats, pull open the shower curtain, and hide the plunger, garbage cans, toilet brush, and rugs. Buyers know people live in the home, but they don’t need to see evidence of it. It’s not just bulky furniture that ruins the flow of a space. Rugs can do it too, especially in the bathroom. But when selling, scatter rugs break up the floor space, making bathrooms seem smaller than they actually are. Having light music on in the background can make buyers feel more comfortable as they tour the home, as long as it is not too loud or distracting. Conceal the critters by removing scratching posts, dog beds, and cages out of sight. Put away water and food bowls, as well as any pet-related items. (toys, leashes, litter boxes, etc.) Open heavy window drapes to let natural light shine through each room. Keep venetian blinds open, or slant downward to let in the maximum light while obscuring a poor view. Store away personal effects such as family photos, refrigerator art, religious items, checkbooks, IDs, credit cards, medications, awards, trophies, or unique pieces that tell a story about yourself. These can distract and hinder the buyer envisioning himself/herself in the home. You want a neutral canvas so buyers can immediately picture themselves and their family living in the home, not giving information about who is currently living there.

Let’s just start by stating the obvious.  My favourite day of the year? February 15.  Why?  Because of the drugstore pink Hershey’s Kisses and shattered chocolate hearts on for half the price they were a day ago. (I am just a girl standing in front of a shelf, asking myself how many boxes of chocolates I can buy without embarrassing myself.) After all, I’m not eating my feelings. I’m fighting inflation.  Yes, soon it will be “Love-Day”, a day where everyone has an equal chance to be emotionally disappointed. At heart, I am a hopeless romantic and have been since I was 7 years old and wrote my first love poem (yes, it rhymed.) I have long been known to weep at tragic tear–jerkers and make me shout, “There’s room on the raft for two!”  Even hearing a few notes of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” will send me into a mascara-streaked fetal position. By the way, if you can honestly say that you’ve never tried to reenact the scene where Jack and Rose are standing on the railing of the Titanic pretending to fly, you deserve two boxes of saccharine confections. Ask any self-respecting romantic. We all have a high threshold for cheesy Rom-Coms where the guy always gets the girl and they live happily ever after. Like “The Notebook” where they still find a way to express their true love (particularly by kissing a lot in the pouring rain.) But really, who needs an excuse to watch Ryan Gosling in a romance? Nothing says romance like making your way up to the top of the Empire State Building hoping to find a young, emotionally available Tom Hanks. Plus, crying it out over someone else’s problems can be totally cathartic. I also can’t imagine a world in which Harry does not meet Sally, making me want to start the rest of my life as soon as possible with someone. I’m talking Hallmark Channel levels of devotion here. But for years, I’ve had a complicated relationship with this day, ironically making it the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. The last time I was someone’s type, I was donating blood. What can I say; sometimes Cupid’s aim is a little off and he misses his target. It can happen to the best of us. (But I was voted “nicest ears” in my extended family.) So this year, before I find myself face-down in a pint of Häagen-Dazs praline ice cream or scarfing down an aerosol can of whipped cream, (well, at least the whipped cream has a date), I have to remember that the majority of my life can’t be spent with weak knees and butterflies in my stomach because I would never get anything done.  Besides, there are lots of things worse than being alone on Valentine’s Day. Like the delivery guy bringing the wrong food, or fluorescent lighting, or watching couples in a restaurant spelling out “I love you” in bread crumbs and melted cheese. I also don’t need a megaphone next to my ear saying, “Attention, attention, you are alone. That is not a person next to you. That is your jacket.”     I mean, who wants those outmoded cliches of chocolate, flowers, and jewelry! All they do is make you fat, suggest you need to smell better, and turn your wrist green via a fake silver bracelet. It’s enough to get anyone pre-annoyed.   The upcoming Valentine’s Day is going to be a testament to my stamina and ingenuity, so one idea I had is to buy a box of colour-it-yourself Tarot cards, cause once I am done, I can read my future and see if this is the last Valentine’s Day I spend on my own. It’s a win-win (or win-lose if the cards aren’t in my favour.) And to send myself a Valentine’s Day card. That way I won’t have to worry about not getting a card in the mail.  Or maybe blast Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next” for a full 24 hours until it’s safe to come out.   Maybe it would help if I renamed the day to “Marshmallow Appreciation Day” or “Killer Donut Day” or “Glittery Pink Mush Day”. While yes, misery loves company, and for those of us who would much prefer a second Hallowe’en, I still think we need this Super Bowl Day of Romance to love a little harder. A day to stop, take a breath and focus on connection. If we didn’t have this day, maybe we wouldn’t take that time. Singling it out may trigger in us a small reminder that small gestures spread out over the course of a relationships are more important than grand gestures mandated by a commercially based holiday. There’s no rule that says Valentine’s Day is only for romantic love. It should be a day that celebrates love in a general sense. So grab your bonbons, your boo or your crew. Scatter those rose petals, and start chilling the bubbly.  Here’s to a love-ly Valentine’s Day.  But no pressure. Unless, of course, that’s what you want. I mean, we can see how it goes… This got awkward. Sorry.

It seems like it’s only a matter of minutes where we go from pumpkins to holiday lights to months of outdoor decor hibernation.   That said, let’s talk about curb appeal. If your listing isn’t living up to its curb appeal potential, a few simple changes could add up to a fantastic front-of-house facelift. Don’t curb the appeal. Yes, it’s tempting to keep a pink flamingo or two on the front lawn, but it’s only a pass if the house is in South Carolina.   Ditto a yard looking like a miniature golf course invaded with inanimate plastic creatures, dwarves, garden gnomes, and faded metal butterflies stuck mid-flight to the gate.It is also important to pay close attention to the architecture of the house when making changes or it will backfire — kind of like a lumberjack trying to wear a tutu. The results aren’t edifying.   While you can never have too much of a good thing, you could have too much of one thing. No one feels any sort of fondness for a muddle of empty plant pots or a screen door with dirt going back to the Roman Conquest. And if you really want to see curb appeal take a nosedive, leave out the garden hoses, hockey sticks, brooms and objects whose functions aren’t readily apparent. But there’s no need to throw in the towel, or even a washcloth. Curb appeal is one of the easiest components to improve when sellers decide to put their home on the market.  While we’re on the porchIf the home is lucky enough to have a covered porch, nothing says “We live a good life here”, like a cozy seating area. Just because no one will be sitting on the porch having morning coffee until spring, doesn’t mean the porch needs to look like the kind of location a body might be found in an advanced state of decomposition. Even something as simple as a narrow bench topped with cushions will add charm to make passers-by pause and prospective buyers swoon, creating a street-view snapshot of domestic delight.  Your best facade forward The front door is the passage into the heart of the home. It’s the star of the show, with everything else playing supporting roles. But if there’s any question as to where the front door is, there’s probably room for improvement. A mailbox to remember  Winter also means that we don’t have the flourish of summer greenery to distract from peeling numerical address stickers and a battered warhorse of a mailbox, looking like something you might send figs in, what some might call – “disturbing to others.” Swapping them out to something hip (house numbers that can easily be spotted from the street in an easy-to-read font), is an inexpensive way to introduce the listing, remembering to change out any non-matching exterior light or door handle. Remember the tutu? Planters filled with small evergreens or faux topiaries really make an appealing difference, especially in homes with scant frontal real estate. Flank the front door with topiaries or urns filled with small evergreens, and suddenly, you’ve got a grand entrance. And it doesn’t have to be Christmas to hang a decorative wreath. Pinky swear. Lights. Camera. Action. String lights aren’t just for the holidays. Place a battery-operated string inside a clear lantern for a soft glow. Or wrap around a tree, a porch railing or along the top of a fence for a look that will make buyers want to live outside. This creates the same luring effect from the street as a lit window display on a storefront. Aim to impress buyers via “pix appeal” – the home’s appearance in online listing photos. Morning and late afternoons are best for getting beautiful, naturally lit photos, while high noon is the worst.  Remove window screens to make the windows sparkle in the photos. Make the front door stand out in the shots, not the garage door. Elevate the camera to get more of the home. It’s first impression, first and last. Set the stage and go forth.

It’s January 74th. You just woke up and looked outside to find another four inches of frozen sky water covering every possible surface. It’s depressingly dim, and you wonder whether another polar vortex from Siberia is coming in. Gazing longingly at your fitness tracker, all you see outside is bare-branched skeletal trees and a squirrel that looks like the old guy who bags groceries at Sobeys. Same expression.You have three choices. One: wait it out while dreaming of sunflowers and turquoise seas, olive groves and rocky cliffs. Two: make yourself cup of tea and wonder why you live in a place where the air hurts your face. Or three: embrace one of Canada’s most authentic experiences and go shovel the driveway. One of the best things about living through a Calgary winter (depending on the hour of the day), is that we always have an easy conversational opening.Passer-by: “Nice day.” You: (adjusting your features into something approaching amiability) “Yup, for a…” Check one.Polar bearDuckSnowmobilePolar explorerNo, we don’t have the blind luck to live in Santa Barbara where there is perpetual sunlight and temperate weather. Instead, we hardy Calgarians, with certain anguished diligence, can either slather on more anti-aging moisturizer – or get on speed dial to WestJet.  It’s just the way of things. Yep, I love this time of year. There’s nothing quite like watching a beautiful sunset during my lunch break. I don’t know about you but my devotion to Mother Nature fails when it drops below zero. Like yesterday. I popped by next door to see if 81-year-old Vera needed anything from the store. She said she did, so I gave her my list. No point in both of us going out in this weather. Really, to use theological terms, it is just too frigging much. Sometimes we just need something to look forward to – and sometimes that’s a donut. Yes, I’m just one long beard away from being a complete hermit.  No thanks, I have enough.Maybe our real superpower lies in accepting the mundane and thriving in our weird, unfathomable, ordinary everyday lives. Maybe to relish in small joys, like seeing our philodendron grow a new leaf. Or sitting with a glass of something warm. And looking at the sky. That’d be enough, right? A soporific economy of movement.English writer Katherine May writes that winter “is a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order. Doing these deeply unfashionable things — slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting — is a radical act now, but it’s essential.”“Wintering,” she continues, is also an experience, a metaphor for phases in our life when we feel frozen out or unable to make the next step. It can come at any time, in any season, in any weather. We need to must embrace the winters of our own lives because everything eventually passes. There is grace in letting go, stepping back and giving ourselves time to repair in the dark and come out on the other side. It comes for all of us. We may not necessarily choose it, but we can choose how we deal with it. She writes, “Here is another truth about wintering: you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on. And in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us. It’s an exchange of gifts in which nobody loses out.” Stay put. And pass the donuts.

When selling a home, bathrooms might be the last place one thinks about actually staging. After all, buyers will probably just peek their head in, maybe check their hair, and move along. Well, not quite.

Even if the bathroom doesn’t have the exquisite luxury bones seen in magazines, it can still look sparkling and feel hotel luxury with just a few “doesn’t need to break the bank” tips.  So let’s get started.

Don’t be incredible.

The days of over-the-top staging, where tea lights floated in rose-coloured bath waters, and champagne flutes sat at the tub’s edge, are long over.

But emotional touchpoints sell. It’s the difference between setting buyers’ nerves on edge or allowing them to imagine themselves relaxing in a spa-like atmosphere.

This may seem surprising, but an under-decorated bathroom is always better than an over-decorated one.

Keep it simple.

One of the best parts of walking into a just-cleaned hotel room is the emptiness, so an almost clear countertop makes for a saleable space.

You know the drill. Ideally, there will be few “signs of life” when prospective buyers tour a home. I know it’s difficult when sellers live in the home and are human, but the more they can make a bathroom look like it’s a luxury resort suite, the better. That means only pretty stuff gets displayed, and garbage cans, grooming and medicinals are out of sight. Rusty razors, damp loofahs and a  bottle of “Preparation H” doesn’t exactly scream “staycation.”

To make seller’s lives easier, I recommend using plastic baskets for these items, tucking them away in the cabinet.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

Honestly, go full ‘Monica’ on this. Toothbrush meets toilet.

According to data from HomeLight, top real estate professionals estimate the ROI on a deep cleaning  is more than 900 percent!

The #1 thing is clean. I can’t stress it enough. If that means a tossed out mildewed shower curtain or deep cleaning the grout, then break out the rubber gloves.

Remove Bathroom Mats and Toilet Covers. Yuck!

Remove these so buyers can take in all the room has to offer. No one likes fabric near the toilet, and grungy rugs are more college-living than hotel spa.

Remove toilet-related items like plungers, bowl cleaning brushes and extra toilet paper rolls. It may sound silly, but no one really wants to know the function of a bathroom.

And go ahead and take out the bathroom scale. Nothing says relax and unwind like a morning weigh-in, right?

Bright vs. Dingy

The flickering-bulb look says highway motel, not 5-star resort. In addition to swapping out any dated fixtures or burnt out bulbs, replace dim bulbs with opaque brighter ones to make the room feel larger. The best color temperature is 2700 – 3000 K.

Replace Towels With Brand-New Matching Sets

Ah, fresh, new towels. That’s a wonderful thing—and the fluffier, the better. It’s an easy, affordable way to refresh a bathroom. If you want the luxury look, ya gotta go fluffy. Note: The towels are now only for looks; not for use.

Neutrals reign supreme.

As in many a hotel room—you can’t go wrong with plain white everything. White shows everything, so it’s easy to prove that everything is fresh and clean.

Last minute.

I’m always surprised how many online listings/showings have the toilet lids up when showing off their porcelain throne.

Think about the little mini toiletries in a hotel room. A fresh bar of soap by the sink adds elegance without overpowering. A decorative liquid soap dispenser is better, though.

The room shoudn’t be a greenhouse, but setting in a small leafy plant or vase of flowers makes the room feel alive.