When my parents were selling their house last year, the biggest thing their realtor had to keep telling them was to make it as empty as possible.  This was difficult for my Mom, who comes from the Applebee’s school of wall decoration (i.e., as Dave Barry so glorious described it, “It is as if a young urban professional with telekinetic powers, the kind Sissy Spacek exhibited in the movie ‘Carrie,’ got really tanked up on the margaritas one night and decided to embed an entire flea market in the wall.”)   But somehow they managed.  Their struggles to depersonalize a home they’d lived in for decades, along with my Dad’s surprisingly-endearing fascination with tacky lawn ornaments, are what inspired the direction of this strip.

(Thanks for Mrs. Shoebox, Devo Spice, TV’s Kyle, Sara Trice, and Luke Ski for some last-minute critiquing.)

I’m too tired to type more things now.