Seller Rushes to Make Fixes
Before House Goes on Market

Editor's Note: This is the fourth installment of "Hitting the Market," a feature by columnist Jane Hodges that details her attempt to sell her Seattle home.

Lately my house has been in such a mess that I can't even find the checklist of items I planned to address before it hits the market.

Back in late March, when my agent and a stager did a walk-through to give me pointers on renovations, I took copious notes and made a lengthy checklist. But with only a week to my listing date, I'm wondering if I bit off more than my beau, Dave, and I could chew.

During the past two months, I've enlisted a general contractor who specializes in plumbing projects and a handyman who had previously handled drywall, tile and painting projects in my home. But unlike before, when I had contractors complete a project here and there, I feel like my home has become a chaos zone.

I'm acutely aware of this since my home is not only where I live but also where I work. Now, it's covered in tarps and drywall dust and strewn with tools. I am also keenly aware that I've gone into debt for this experience during these final hours of prep -- debt I hope to retire in the sale.

It wasn't that my plumbing contractor, Nick Nash, or my handyman, George Wyre, and his assistant weren't doing a good job. Ms. Nash has turned my formerly grubby basement bathroom into a serviceable and clean space and was in the process of completing a conversion of my cramped main-floor bathroom into a stylish Restoration Hardware-esque retreat. Calling Mr. Wyre a "handyman" is an understatement, as far as I'm concerned. He painted my home's exterior, repaired plaster, fixed wood trim, re-hung doors and repaired exterior siding -- all in consort with Ms. Nash, the two of them kicking up plaster and tiptoeing around the dangerous saws, tile cutters and other tools of their trades.

However, upon returning from a trip to Utah, I gauged the work remaining. I regretted the excursion momentarily -- my boyfriend had planned the budget vacation for us in March, correctly anticipating that my home wouldn't be habitable during parts of its redesign. As I surveyed the paint on my lawn and on the hardwood floors, plus a permanent-looking layer of dust throughout the house and on my just-resealed deck, all I wanted to do was climb under the covers -- or go to my favorite watering hole.

With the stager set to arrive on Sunday, June 3, I found myself faced with about five days to get the home ready to be staged for prospective buyers. Ms. Nash finished her work on May 29, flawless but a bit later than anticipated, partly due to the added time a new bathtub resurfacing technique required.

Mr. Wyre's final day, May 31, was packed. I asked him to paint a hall ceiling white, add brown contrast to my cream-colored front door and whitewash the window frame and some wood trim in my office. I also asked him to install an antique bathroom door -- which I'd have to procure from Second Use, a vintage salvage store in Seattle. (This required a two-hour errand, lots of questions, help from no less than three patient sales associates, $90 and securing the door to the roof of my very small car.)  These are tasks I added to Mr. Wyre's to-do list, which already included completing trim work in the living room, a lot of paint touch-ups and clean up.

At 2:30 p.m., with only two hours left in his last workday at my place, I found myself telling him I could give his wife a lift to the airport so he could work later -- an offer he almost accepted until she found a ride. So unhandy am I that I laughed aloud when Mr. Wyre and Ms. Nash referred to me as "the boss," even though since I am writing the checks, I suppose the name applies. Fortunately, Mr. Wyre and his partner succeeded in all of their tasks -- but that doesn't mean my place is ready to be shown to buyers.

Two days before the stager can perform her magic, my boyfriend and I have several jobs to tackle. (I've already had a duct cleaning and carpet cleaning today, and it's only 10 a.m. -- but since I rose at 5 a.m. it feels like lunch time.) My agent has reminded me to let her or her partner know if I need any help (the duct cleaner, for instance, was a speedy referral on her part). But for the most part, I'm at the point where there's too much going on for me to figure out how to delegate. This is what's left to be done:

• Paint kitchen cabinets white, attach pre-painted cabinet doors and add hardware. Empty the refrigerator of its remaining contents and defrost it.

• Hang custom lighting fixtures ($265) I ordered for overnight delivery since I didn't realize the retro glass shades I initially chose won't fit my existing fixtures.

• Move furniture back into its proper rooms -- place the bed, which is now in the living room, back in the bedroom, etc. Do a "preliminary" cleaning before the housecleaners arrive.

• Touch up paint, especially white trim, in several rooms that I forgot to ask Mr. Wyre to handle or where my boyfriend and I nicked while moving out.

• Pack up remaining clothes, personal items and office supplies and move them out of sight to the basement utility room or to a friend's home -- or into any cabinet or under any bed that isn't already crammed with belongings.

• Prune, mow, add wood chips or mulch to empty garden beds and place a few new plants in active garden beds.

As the listing date nears, I realize we may not get to paint touch-ups in several areas of the house. I am not sure if the dust from the tile-cutting on my newly finished deck will fade or if we should clean it. I keep reminding myself that little imperfections aren't what a buyer will notice during their 10- to 15-minute visit to my home. Or will they? There's little left to do but take a deep breath -- and resume my social life so I won't obsess over selling my house.

Check back tomorrow for the fifth installment.

-- Ms. Hodges is a a free-lance writer in Seattle.

Email your comments to rjeditor@dowjones.com.