So the thing I have come to realize about selling a house is that the moment you list it, the house is no longer yours. It doesn’t matter if it takes 2 weeks or 2 years to sell, from the moment it goes on the market you can no longer live in the house as normal people. Because you have to keep it clean and neat and organized, and ready to show at a moment’s notice. You have to clear out all of your clutter–clutter that exists because you freaking USE IT on a regular basis and want it within easy reach. You haul things to storage, pack them up. You lose your ability to find ANYTHING because nothing is where it’s supposed to be anymore. No, it’s all been hidden away in an attempt to maintain the farce that your house is bigger than it really is and you’re moving for some other reason than you need more space. You feel utterly displaced in your own space, and every little thing that annoyed you for the first x number of years you lived there, now takes on piss off capacity of exponential levels.
As of next week, our house will have been on the market for two months. After being led to believe that the market was still fine for entry level homes, and that the house would sell FAST, to say that this is disappointing would be an understatement. Now the “season”, such as it is, is really just starting here. My rational brain knows that. It’s entirely likely that we will have an offer by the end of June (please dear GOD), as literally hundreds of houses change hands over the summer in a college town. But right now we’re so frustrated and discouraged we don’t even want to look at other houses. We’re in a “why bother if no one wants our house?” frame of mind. And we’re ready to bring all our stuff back from storage, because we wonder exactly why the hell we’re inconveniencing ourselves for people who track dog poo through our house (no, I’m still not over that from last week).
Of course our realtor maintains we should keep the faith. Anybody notice how part of a realtor’s job is as much cheerleader as negotiator? We love her. She is like having our own personal Paula Deen, a favorite southern aunt. She’s a lovely person. But at the moment even her amazing optimism hasn’t been enough to keep ours afloat.
The simple fact of the matter is that selling and buying real estate (oh, and MOVING) just plain sucks and is stressful.
However, on the plus side, despite the derailing or delay of relocation plans, I am STILL KICKING WORD COUNT TUSHY. So don’t mistake my foray into cranky-two-year-old-who-needs-a-nap status as complete depression on EVERYTHING. I’m just feeling morose and want this whole flipping thing OVER AND DONE WITH. I don’t do well in limbo. But I’m going to keep on moving forward with Red, and perhaps things will work out where I finish it right before my life gets turned upside down to move. Yes, there’s a positive thought. Finish book. THEN MOVE.