thinkhomestaging.com

I would like to tell you about my day in prison.

Well, it was more like 3 hours actually, and not so much a prison as a verandah with a heavy security gate and a broken lock.

But it felt like prison, and there were bars, and visitors, and special gifts of food, and lots of time to reflect on my life – and how it all went wrong – just joking about the last bit.

I am a home stager – I stage homes, that is, I set them up to look like display homes so that potential buyers walk in and say …. WOW!!! (very loudly and exaggerated)

Yesterday, after 5 hours of arranging furniture, funky figurines and flowers in a rundown old Queenslander in Paddington, I had created a masterpiece of visual beauty. This place was old but was looking good, and I was just congratulating myself on a job well done as I pulled the front door shut when the key snapped off in the lock.

I was wrong in thinking that my job was done. Clearly (and I know this now) the job is not complete until you are safely out of the premises. Any bank robber can tell you that. Strange, I never thought my vocation had any overlap with that of a common criminal.

But I had counted chickens before they had hatched, and now I was like a hen shut in for the night.

Casting all pride to the wind, and mindful of my predicament, I called my husband and convinced him – yes he needed some convincing- to come and rescue me. “But I have the kids” he said “but I have to make dinner” he said “Can’t you climb through the bars – or bend them with the power of your incredible mind, ha ha ha ha” “You’re not funny!” I reminded him.

He arrived shortly after with a banana and some water (I needed a cake with a file)– and a pen and some paper – suggesting I write my memoirs. The children were delighted. My husband said that he would come and visit most weekends; that he would let my mother know, and then they were gone.

While waiting for the locksmith – I got to know the neighbors who were surprised to learn about the rezoning of their neighborhood. They offered me food and a blanket, and some welcome conversation.

And I relearned that wonderful lesson that community is often created around adversity. You see, they kindly supported me through my predicament like they were old and dear friends.

Finally the estate agent arrived and was full of smiles and jokes – and I got to know more about him than would have been possible before, and meanwhile the locksmith worked his magic.

And then I was free, and on my way home.

And wouldn’t you know it – my husband and the kids had tied yellow ribbons all around the front of the house.