Here I Go Again: House Sale Hell

Selling a home is the pits.  It is one of the hottest corners of the place that sinners go to burn for eternity, a self-inflicted exercise in ego-bruising discomfort, a time when one is required to live as if no one lives in the house.

The lousy economy has had its nasty way with me, and I have been trying to fight the good fight for a year now.  A year ago on March 15, I listed my home for $650,000, a price my realtor established as competitive and fair for the market conditions.  There was showing after showing, open house after open house and endless trips to the park with my dog in order to kill the time it takes for people to traipse through my home and make comments about Lord knows what.  Not one offer came in. 

My actual house and yard

I spent the next six months trying to get the mortgage company to work with me.  I have never before spent six entire months of my life in such an egregiously wastfeful fashion.  The degree to which I was jerked around by the bank has been documented several times in previous posts, but suffice it to say, I got nowhere, fast.

Today I listed the house myself  through  C21Clickit.com, a Century 21 sell-by-owner program.  The asking price?  $515,00!  That's right, $135,000 less than a year ago.  And, as if that isn't enough to send me to the liquor store, even that price is probably too high, but I cannot go any lower if I'm to escape from the grips of those mortgage nazis.

One of my readers recently wrote that I seem to have kept my sense of humor.  That is something that has kept me going this past year, and it hasn't always been one of my strongest attributes.  I am so grateful that age and the experience that goes with it has taught me that all things have a way of working out.  HOW they work out is usually in direct alliance with how hard I work at giving myself every opportunity to come out okay in the end.  And so I work -- and write.  But let's get back to that sense of humor for a second.

This afternoon when I returned from a food run, I had a message on my voicemail that a man had called the number on the sign outside and was interested in learning more about the house.  I shoved the food into the freezer/cabinets/pantry, picked up the phone and called the gentleman back.  Here's what he said:

"Yeah, I wanted to see what the story was on that pretty house.  I wanted to see if they were desperate enough so a fella like me could run up there and steal it from 'em." 

Fortunately, the aforementioned sense of humor kicked in.  I replied "Well sir, that's really an honest statement and I appreciate your candor, but I don't believe I would have said that to me.  I'm the owner."  Apparently, Mr. C wasn't aware of the C21Clickit.com program, and he thought he was talking to a seller's agent.  The sounds that came across that phone line were utterly (literally) priceless.  He stuttered.  He stammered.  He apologized.  I laughed out loud. 

I allowed the man to recover with a level of dignity, and continued to describe the house.  He asked probing questions about my reasons for selling -- relentless cuss, I'd say -- hoping to find the magic chink in my armor so that he could offer me some preposterously low amount.  However, I am nothing if not fast on my feet, so I told him I need to downsize and simplify; that the kids are all gone and the house is way to big for just me and the dog.  And, no, I'm not planning to leave the area.  Just need a smaller place.

We parted friendly, and he thought he might want to call "sometime" and make an appointment to see it.  Yeah, right.  Stay with me, sense of humor.  I'm going to be needing ya'.