You may have noticed that I have been inexplicably absent from the blogosphere over the last few months, and I'm sure you've been wondering, what the hell has been going on with The Screaming Meanie?
I'm prepared to answer that very question. This is the first in a line of posts that will chronicle, "The Missing Months".
This first story is about the misadventures of trying to sell our house.
After TC and I found out she was with child, we decided that the house we were living in probably wasn't big enough. With the help of our awesome families, we got the house ready to list and our tiny little love shack hit the market in mid-January.
Shortly after the listing hit MLS, we began showing the house.
And we showed it. And we showed it. And we showed it some more.
There seemed to be no lack of interest in seeing our ghetto-fabulous house, so we sat back and waited for the offers to roll in.
And we waited. And we waited. And we waited some more.
Sadly, nobody seemed to like our little house enough to put an offer in.
So, we dropped the price of the house.
Then we dropped the price again. Dropped it again. And dropped it again.
The excuses for not wanting our house were plentiful. The bedrooms were too small. The stairs to the basement were too steep. The stairs going upstairs were too narrow. The people looking were too tall (no joke). Too fat (I couldn't make this one up). Too picky.
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And of course, there was the leaky basement. A small trickle of water that was seeping in from the outside wall and emptying into the drain was turning folks off. And really, I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to buy a house with water in the basement either. So, we got a quote to have the basement waterproofed. We told prospective buyers that we would either fix the basement as a condition of sale, or knock the price of the estimate off the house.
There was one douchebag who said he wanted to see what was under the sub-floor in the basement. He asked if we would be willing to tear up the floor so he could make sure there was concrete underneath before he would put in an offer. Hell, after 5 months on the market, I would have licked the floor clean if I thought it would help sell the house.
So I spent 3 days tearing down a wall, tearing up the floor, removing the rubble, and cleaning the floors.
An offer was imminent.
Except, for that it wasn't. The bastard changed his mind and decided that he was going to put an offer on another house. Sunnuva!!!
I was pissed! All that work for some asshole to decide he liked another house better. He gave every indication to our agent that he was serious about buying our house. If I had known he was simply kicking tires I would have told him to get stuffed when he made the request.
*sigh*
Live and learn I guess.
After almost 6 frustrating months on the market, we were getting close to TC's due date. We talked about it and decided that it was going to be too much work for her to get the house ready for showings while trying to take care of a newborn baby.
So we pulled the plug and took our miniature house off the market.
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We're planning to update the floors throughout the house, add some fresh paint, maybe look at adding a driveway and perhaps update the bathroom. Depending on when (or if) these things get done, we may re-list in the fall, or wait until next spring.
I've never sold a house before, and I've learned that it's a great big pain in the ass. It was a frustrating experience for both of us. People would give us two hours notice before viewing the house, they'd leave lights on, their agents wouldn't give us feedback - it just sucked.
I'd like to think that things will be different when we put the house back on the market, but if this experience has taught me anything, it's that buyers aren't realistic. Our house was listed in the low $120's, and we had people coming through expecting to find the luxuries and amenities of a house that would list for over $300k.
Please feel free to comment on your selling horror stories - I want to feel better about mine. Heh heh.
