Mr. Nobody and I continue to search for our rural homestead.
We are having remarkably bad luck.
Mr. Nobody is of Irish ancestry, and I’ve kidded him throughout our relationship about his incredible good luck. I enjoy it so much when I benefit from some of it. It’s small stuff, mostly, like finding a great parking space in a crowded lot on a cold and snowy day…but, you take it when you can get it.
None of that juju is manifesting itself in our search.
Let’s just step back for a moment.
As middle class Americans, we hit the jackpot when it comes to luck. Our lifestyles are the envy of the world. We were born white, already a huge advantage when it comes to the game of life.
Luck is a relative term. I understand that.
Last weekend, we looked at our 12th and 13th property in Missouri. And just loved the 13th. Oh my, it was a lovely piece, high up on a ridge at the end of the dead end road. The house needed some work, but the land was right. A creek runs through it, lots of rolling hills and woods for walks.
We prepared to put an offer in even before leaving the property…..that is how much we liked it. As the paperwork was being prepared and some due diligence was being conducted, I was designing the renovations to the house in my head and dreaming of seeing that view for the rest of my life.
Our house is nearly ready to list. This next week should (and I use that term with delicacy and hope) see the end of the improvements. Fresh and boring paint. Fresh and so boring they are unnoticed light fixtures (Mr. Nobody was home from a trip for a couple of days before he noticed the additions). We might even have a basement that won’t leak anymore, but this I say with caution as we haven’t had any rain lately. That was a saga of it’s own.
The real estate agent I selected to rep this house has been really smart, so far. We’ve actually met only once, a couple of months ago. He sort of has a team of people he works with, to stage and photograph the house, and the stagers are the people who tell me what I need to do. They selected the awful paint colors for the walls, and the boring light fixtures, and so forth. So far, everyone who has seen the house has agreed that it looks great.
Well, yeah, if you like hotel rooms and other public facilities with no personality.
All part of the “McDonaldization” of America. Apparently, Americans love bland. The idea is to remove as many objections as possible. When you step into this house where we’ve lived for 14 years, you would have absolutely no clue that real people lived here.
What is interesting to me is that, as both a buyer and a seller, I’m seeing both ends of the spectrum here. We are doing repairs, yes, but also cosmetics. Our hope is that, once we list, the house sells quickly and at full price. That’s the strategy I “bought” when our real estate agent and I shook hands on the deal (nothing has been signed yet).
Yet, I’m looking at properties where nothing has been done. Photographs lie, of course. So do real estate agents.
Which is why we have to make the eight hour trip and then spend more time driving to properties to look at them, smell them, walk them, and verify and verify and then verify more.
If our real estate agent is right, once we hit the MLS, there should be a stream of people coming through this house and a full price offer should come. We hope for that, but we know we’ll be homeless.
Two moves. Two moves with one old sick dog and two younger kitties who don’t like cars or change. Kinda weird what you hope for, sometimes.