I think I got lucky. I think I got really lucky.
A couple of months ago, I found the smaller house I’ve been “sort of” looking for on and off for the past year. It’s been time to downsize for a while, with numbers 1 and 2 off at university and number 3 set to go in a year.
Real estate has been a hot commodity in my part of the world. My house was estimated to be worth more than three times what I bought it for a decade and a half ago, and homes were selling in two to three days. But there was a lot to consider. Other houses – smaller ones – were also commanding a ridiculous sum of money. And I was looking for something quite specific. There was no way I could sell first and THEN find the perfect next place.
So when I found it, I knew I had to move quickly. Trusted girlfriend cum realtor by my side, I put in an offer and we negotiated a price that was lower than my high water mark. Suddenly, I was facing the prospect of selling my place. No problem. A couple of weekends were occupied with decluttering, cleaning and fixing a few little things I d learned to live with. A stager made my home look gorgeous in pictures.
While this was going on, an almost identical house on my street sold in a weekend. Two days before mine went on the market , another home in my neighbourhood also sold quickly. All was going to be fine.
And then the real estate market stopped dead in its tracks. Completely stopped moving. No movement at all.
Nervously, the first weekend passed, and then the second. It wasn’t like people were looking at my house, turning up their noses and buying something else. They simply weren’t buying. Anything. So we reduced the price. Still nothing. It made absolutely no difference.
By this point, my stomach was doing flips. I felt like I was holding onto the bar of a roller coaster as it crested the tallest hell and started its insane descent. A showing would be booked, and the roller coaster would go up the next hill as I got excited about the possibility that this was “the one”. Then it tumbled down the other side as hopes faded. It was not a good feeling. I stopped sleeping. The prospect of owning two houses, and the financial gymnastics that would mean, loomed large.
At the end of the day, it took a full three weeks to sell. In a normal real estate market, that doesn’t seem too bad. But it was very different – very suddenly – from expectation just a few short weeks earlier.
There’s a lot I’ll miss about my current home. It’s where I raised my kids for the past 15 years, where I nurtured my garden and where, with wonderful neighbours, we created great memories.
My realtor – aka my good friend – was almost more agitated than I was, during this time. After all, she’d all but promised me – bear with me through the metaphor here – a whole hot fudge sundae of a price. But real estate is a gamble and all I really needed was a scoop of ice cream. When the dust settles, I’ll have a couple of scoops of ice cream and a bit of chocolate sauce. I can’t be upset about the whipped cream and cherry that didn’t materialize. I have what I need and a bit more.
I actually feel lucky. Statistics are starting to come out for last month and commentators are talking about this blip possibly getting worse before they get better. But I’ll move into my littler place in a few weeks, with the creek that runs behind it and the herons and occasional deer that the current owners tell me to watch out for.
Maybe I’ll have a celebratory ice cream on the back deck.
