Friday, May 2, 2014


                                          


            










     
                                                  SELLING OUR HOME Part II


     The bruises on my knees from scrubbing floors will go away. The backache from leaning over beds and cleaning out attic cubbies will disappear in time. The damage to our homeowner ego may take some work. Phase II of selling our home is just beginning. The first realtor appeared yesterday all smiles and full of “funny” stories. (I am not interested in fishing tales or your other clients’ pest control issues--just tell me how you’re going to get us our price asap, Buster.)

     We closed the door on Realtor Number 1, looked at each other and headed for the liquor cabinet. Hmm. Nothing there. Forgot we threw that out to protect ourselves from moments like this. Being the eternal “juggler” and “optimist” in the family, I scrambled up to my womancave to begin adjusting the numbers--DOWNWARD. Based on what the guy quoted us, we can afford a double-wide in Westland, Michigan. The beautiful Florida home with the lanai and sparkling pool has become pure fantasy.

    I have now spent more than five very long (yet informative) hours on my buttocks listening to the realtor schtick. How does anyone talk that long non-stop? What happened to “less is more?” After listening to 4/4 of them, we have finally accepted the “price point.” Now all we have to do is figure out how to do without $50,000 to $75,000 worth of luxuries we had expected in our future home. Maybe we could do without a fridge--food just costs too much anyway. Maybe we could skip the washer/dryer. We won’t be able to afford any new clothes, so we’ll just wear each outfit for a couple of days at a time. I’m sure the folks at the new country club won’t notice. Ah, the country club--hmm. Maybe we’ll have to order just one meal and share it until we get on our financial feet. Decisions, decisions.

     Before we stuff the tube with the “This home is a jewel” flyer, we will drive our sports car to an historic resort, order our (perhaps last) Cosmo and decide just how bad we want to be warm next winter. Maybe cloudy, gray, cold and damp aren’t so bad after all. At least I can afford to buy a blouse here.