Glass Half Full: My House Hasn’t Sold Yet, But My Kids Have Made Their Beds For A Week
posted by: Catherine
Like many people in the Denver area, I’ve decided to take advantage of the real estate boom that seems to be happening here. Actually, I should rephrase that: Like several people here I’m taking advantage of the market. Word on the street is the inventory is low, the demand is high, so if you want to sell…now is a good time.
Weeks before I put my house on the market, I started envisioning a sold sticker on the sign in my yard the moment it was planted. After all, everyone else’s house was flying off the realtor.com website, why shouldn’t mine? Every time I heard a story of someone’s house selling in a day, I smugly thought mine would sell in minutes. And when I started getting phone calls for showings just moments after my house hit the MLS, I thought I had this in the bag.
That sign is still swingin’ in my front yard. Without a sold sticker to weigh it down.
This has been a humbling experience and one I haven’t been through in over eleven years when the real estate market was experiencing another high. Back then, I had a baby, a toddler, and a husband who prided himself on his cluttered garage.
That house sold in five days.
Now I have a teenager, two kids in elementary school, and a deceased husband who apparently has no “in” with St. Joseph up there.
I can’t decide which is more difficult: Showing a house with kids who can’t pick up after themselves, but seemed to contain their disorder to one very cute antique trunk with the rest of their toys OR showing a house with three kids who regularly leave underwear, hair dryers, hair straighteners, electronic devices, pencil shavings, and the mandatory dirty sock for me to find every morning. (Special thanks to the child who sprayed a Go-gurt all over my upper cabinets yesterday.)
The idea of this transition has, of course, been difficult for my kids so it could just be that they’re acting out of spite. Then again, they have the added bonus of not hearing me yell at them as they leave for school because they’ve left every light in the house on. It actually saves me a little time.
Anyway, as my parents and I slaved over the house these past few weeks, making it look better than it has during the last eleven years, I thought, “This is going to be a breeze.”
Again. Sign is still swinging.
This has been a little damaging to my psyche. In the last week, my thought process has gone from “This house is GORGEOUS. Who wouldn’t want it?” to “This house is a hole. I’m never going to unload it.”
I grasp on to each positive review, looking for hidden meaning in “shows nice” and “good layout,” wondering if this could be the person who offers me $50,000 over my asking price.
Of course, the few negative reviews I’ve had have me shaking my head at my computer screen in frustration and immediately looking for houses in the area that are in deplorable conditions just to make myself feel better. At one point, after reading a scathing review from a local realtor, I couldn’t help but think, “That b-tch hates me.”
Okay, we’ve never met. But it did feel a little like getting sucker-punched on the playground.
My realtor has told me not to take the feedback so personally, but it’s really hard not to. After all, I loved this house back when it had bright orange (and burned) countertops and three layers of wallpaper that I lost most of my fingernails stripping. My husband and I thought it was our dream home even as we gutted one of the bathrooms the day we moved in. It’s been loved and remodeled from top to bottom and I find myself thinking after each silent showing, “What is wrong with you people???”
I just try to remind myself of the saying “there’s a reason for everything” which I usually hate, but is saving my sanity at this point. My late husband and St. Joseph could be cooking up a plan up there to make sure the house sells at the right time because they know the house that I’ve been dreaming about will be coming on the market the next day.
And now that I think about it, even if it sold tomorrow I might keep it to myself for at least another week. After all, this has been the longest stretch I’ve ever experienced with three kids making their own beds every morning before they leave for school.
Glass half full, right moms?
Catherine Tidd is the author of CONFESSIONS OF A MEDIOCRE WIDOW. She is a mother who always tries to find humor in distressing situations and continues to write so that she can keep telling her kids that she’s busy and they need to get their own snacks. Find her on Facebook and Twitter.
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