Or, How I Came to be a Difficult B!tch!
Once upon a time, I was normal…and then I put my house up for sale.
And then my head exploded.
Not right away, of course, It took several years and hundreds of Potential Home Buyers coming through and examining my home from top to bottom, giving me hope for a sale and dreams of moving back to civilization, where once I had a life (that I wanted so desperately to get back to…)
But I digress.
First, let’s examine what makes the perfect Home Buyer. It’s someone who takes off his/her shoes, walks through your front door, and then proceeds to ooh and aah over how beautiful and glorious and perrrfect everything is, down to the neatly-trimmed blades of grass in your front lawn. And then they go back to their realtor’s office to write up an offer that makes you squeal like you’re high on chocolate because it’s FULL PRICE!
Only that’s not what happens.
Let me explain…
When you first put your home up for sale, you’re filled with optimism. Your home is so welcoming and special and not at all like all those other homes that are for sale on your block, with lawns full of weeds and siding that hasn’t seen a new coat of paint in, well, forever. You just know your home will sell in less than a week.
You wish. (And, FYI, if your home did sell in less than a week, this b!tch doesn’t want to hear about it. And, um, sorry, kids that you have to see this side of your mother.)
But back to my story…
After a dozen Mr. and Mrs. Potential Home Buyers left me feeling used and abused, I was beginning to lose my optimism. And then, Mr. and Mrs. Perrrfect Potential Home Buyer walked through my door. They greeted me like I was their new BFF, and proceeded to ooh and aah and say all the things I had been longing to hear. “Lovely, just lovely,” they exclaimed over and over as their eyes roamed over every inch on my home that I so wanted to be rid of.
After the fifth ooh and aah, I began to mentally consider a place I’d seen for sale across the lake the last time I was out and about. And just in case Mr. and Mrs. Potential Home Buyer were not yet convinced they were standing in their dream home, I said, “Have you looked around outside? Did you see the built-in waterfall?”
“Yes, yes, we’ve seen everything. It’s perfect. So perrrfect!
My eyes gleamed–I’m pretty sure from tears, I was so excited–as I bid them farewell.
“Sold,” I called and left a message for my realtor before Mr. And Mrs. Home Buyer’s taillights were out of sight. “They loved it! When can I start packing?”
The next morning, my realtor returned my call. “Don’t start packing yet,” he said. “An offer may come, but Mr. and Mrs. Gee-your-home-is-perrrfect want you to take $50K off the price. Plus, if you’d only agree to waa, waa, waa–I was no longer listening; I’d heard it all before–waa, waa, waa, then maybe they’d really be interested.”
That’s when my head exploded! I could actually feel myself morphing into a difficult b!tch! I’d been through this scenario too many times. I’d polished and dusted and scrubbed until I could scrub no more. I was done. D-U-N! I was ready to spit fire.
I was also desperate…I was ready to do business.
The next day, Mr. and Mrs. Potential Home Buyer stopped by for another look-see. Which I couldn’t understand–AT ALL–because they’d already declared my home perrrfect.
“There are so many things wrong with your home,” Mr. and Mrs. Home Buyer’s realtor said.
“Your carpet is old. There are cracks in the garage floor. You’ve hung pictures, so now there are holes in your walls. You’ve painted; the buyer doesn’t like the color. And, God, but is that a fallen leaf in the middle of your lawn?!”
“Um,” I said as I dared take a look out the window at my yard, which a mere twenty-four hours ago had been perrrfect. Holy crap! It was a leaf. How could I have been so careless?
“It must take a lot of work to keep this place up,” Mr. Home Buyer finally had the gonads to speak up. Then Mrs. Home Buyer looked around the kitchen and said her piece. “We both have jobs. We don’t have a lot of time for yard or house work.”
Then why the eff are you looking at my perfect home? I wanted to ask. But I didn’t. I was willing to do any number of indecent things to get the hell out of dodge. (Um, again sorry, kids.) So, instead, I smiled and nodded and pretended I didn’t speak their language, all the while doing my best not to grind my teeth down to nubs. They’d have to do a lot more than complain about the color of my walls for me to nip this sale in the bud. In fact, in order to convince them that my home really was perrrfect, I took them on a personal tour to point out all the attractions they might have missed previously.
More oohing and aahing ensued. I was sure I had a sale.
I didn’t. I wasn’t willing to leave them my piano.
Or my car.
And the moral of this story? Don’t be fooled by all the pleasurable moanings. That’s just a front for a little behind-the-scenes scheming. That’s right. While Mr. and Mrs. Potential Home Buyer are walking around fingering your wood work, opening and closing doors, and moving through your most intimate spaces, they’re also whispering and secretly plotting their next move. How much lower can they get you to drop the price of your home? How many of your own possessions can they convince you to leave behind? How much s#!t are you willing to swallow to make this sale happen?
Only you can answer that. But if you want to sell your home as bad as I did, then go ahead and consider performing a few indecent acts…your one-night stand might just turn into a sale. And you might even avoid turning into a difficult b!tch.
P.S. I did finally sell my home after four and a half lonnng years. I didn’t get the perrrfect buyer, but he was good enough. And maybe? One day I’ll be normal again.