How not to conduct a house viewing

The lady standing on the doorstep did not need to tell me what she thought of my house, because the look on her face said it all.

I was still fussing over the minor details of how the place looked while the builder boyfriend waited for me in the car, engine running, because we get out of the way for viewings. Plumping cushions, sweeping dog hair off sofas, I suddenly noticed that the viewing had arrived and was standing crossly waiting, her back to me. She turned and looked through the half open door:

‘Are you the agent?’ She was fuming, you could see that. I said I was the owner but if the agent was late and she was in a hurry I could show her round. She looked at her watch and said the agent was indeed a few minutes late and she could not possibly be expected to hold on any longer.