The Tale of Two Burned Out Real Estate Professionals

Home, sweet home. (April, 2003) 

Tessa and I have had drive-by texts and chats this week, and it finally reached a point where we just needed to catch up. I understand what's going on with her--and it isn't a desire to not list my house. Probably. She has several horrible clients (she's told me war stories) and they all acted the fool at once. 

Plus, she's ready for vacation. As her friend, I'm ready for her to be on vacation. She needs it. Badly.

Anyway, Tessa generally holds open houses on Sunday afternoons. I cyber-stalked her on Facebook and found out where she was. It was the most amount of uninterrupted time I'd had with her. It was great to catch up with my friend. I'm worried about what I'm getting myself into with my Realtor.  

Let me back up a teensy bit. Saturday night Tessa texted me and said she'd swing by Sunday to "stage" my home. Mind you, it isn't listed yet. No papers have been signed. I sent her a picture of the toxic dump in our living room and told her it was a bit early for such endeavors. 

But can we talk about "staging" please? I live in a 2004 builder spec home. It is 1,800ish* square feet of nofrills. It is a starter home in a starter home neighborhood. When we bought, there was nothing for sale. Nothing! During my chat Sunday with Tessa, she asked I needed area rugs? Lamps? Pictures for the walls? Or--and I'm not making this up--a "vase or two" to brighten the rooms. I live with the Overlords. A "vase or two" sounds like future pottery shards. 

I'm not sure what staging in this case is supposed to look like. The Sunshines are in the process of emptying the house of all extraneous items. We will then move couches and a few other things around so the place looks presentable. I may not be a real estate professional in a metro area of 65,000 ** but I'm thinking "staging" is overkill. 

Which brings me to this conversation. While chatting, I told her I have Alvin the felon handyman coming over this week to do a few things, including removing the non-functioning ceiling fan from the back porch. "You need to replace the ceiling fan." she said. I countered with, "No. We don't. No buyer is going to hang their head and declare, 'That's it! I was so interested in this house but now I just can't buy it because there's no ceiling fan outside'!" To her credit, I could see Tessa itched to reply, but opted not to.

Sunday we talked about showings and open houses. I have two indoor cats and an antisocial dog. I can't do anything about the cats. I will take the dog out for showings. But let's not bother with open houses. Open houses don't sell houses. I know this. She knows this. Open houses are for real estate agents to capture leads and to appease nervous sellers. They are definitely not for houses with cat boxes.  

One area where Marty is on board with Tessa is price. I'm not fighting this because I really hope I'm wrong. Tessa wants to price this place $20,000 more than I think it's worth. There is a house two doors down that's been for sale since February and has an additional bedroom and is much bigger. Our pricing would be $5,000 apart. And honestly, I'd bet once our house goes on the market, their price will come down again--my neighbor is desperate. We aren't. 

That said, the real estate market is very soft. I'm not sure pricing it at Tessa's price or mine will make any difference. Right now we have time and no money, so it doesn't hurt anything. If Marty gets a job and we need to move quickly, I'll push back. Besides, I wouldn't mind getting Tessa's price for my house--but I'm betting it's as unrealistic as adding a couple of vases to make the house more attractive to a potential buyer.  

*The county says the home is 1,800 square feet. It feels like 1,500 and either the county is wrong or it is the absolute worst layout ever. Or both. 

**Approximate population of both Texarkanas combined. 

Because, Of Course There Were

Driving down highway 82 today, about 5 miles from my home in a country town of Leary, TX, I ran across this. 

 

A Saturday in Texarkana

Our house looks like this: 

We really don't live this way. Ever. 

Today Marty and Buck worked on the garage--which is a nightmare. We never fully moved into this house and though there's the adage of if one hasn't used it in a year, it needs to go. I don't necessarily agree. My antique books never had a book shelf. My nice dishes never had a cabinet. I don't have an office to put my office goodies in. So, those already packed items where put into different boxes (the old boxes were falling apart) and repacked. 

In addition to all of the above, Marty and I drove 25 miles to almost Louisiana (on the Arkansas side) to meet up with Corona Leah who took three little storage cabinets we had and loaned me her pressure washer. 

Oh! Leah's house isn't on any mapping program. Directions to Leah's house--I'm not making this up--take a right at the Baptist church, follow that road for a quarter mile, keep an eye out for the first barn on the left and turn at the next road and follow it to the end. 

When we returned to Texarkana, Marty and I stopped by the best coffee shop/book store in town where my friend Cal was having a book signing. I also ran into two other people I knew at the coffee shop, causing Marty to ask if there was anyone in town I did not know. Plus--PLUS!!! I found out two of my books placed at the coffee shop/book store had sold in the past week. Yay!!! 

Afterwards, Marty and I ran errands and did life together before Deb, the Queen of the Coronas called and asked me for help. She's had her home painted and needed few pieces of furniture put back. I was happy to help, not only to get me out of my disaster of a home but mainly because Deb is all kinds of awesome. What was not awesome was catching Deb, who is six weeks away from a hip replacement, on a ladder without a spotter. 

When I'd spent a few hours at Deb's I headed home and helped Marty pack a few more boxes. The house is going to stay a disaster a bit longer. Our goal is to have a good chunk packed by Wednesday and have the garage cleaned out by Wednesday. You saw those pictures. That's realistic? Right? 

A Sign, Perhaps?

I've dusted off the Big Girl Broker voice (tm). It goes with the resting bitch face, but everyone I'm talking to can't see me. Tessa still hasn't called me back. I have issues with this, but I also don't. My realtor in Florida seems to think "I'll call you tomorrow," has no expiration date. Still waiting to hear from him, but he might get canned anyway if he can't act like he's in sales. 

The the poor loan officer I've been in contact with, got a phone call from me where I asked why my request is now a week old--especially because I need this information to move forward. To the loan officer's credit, he must have recognized the timbre of my voice as more than strained because he stammered, apologized and promised I'd hear from him. Eventually. 

Former real estate agent me would never let this level of bafoonery happen. Also former real estate agent me would have been using multi-syllable words if in this situation. 

Retired real estate agent me is thinking, maybe we shouldn't move and this is just the universe's way of making this happen.  

Life in Texarkana

 From the ole Facebook

I have questions: 

1. "Dangerous" alligator? Are there any other kinds? 

2. Spring Lake Park is an urban park, surrounded by neighborhoods. It isn't like the lakes and rivers surrounding Texarkana, which would be a more natural habitat for such critters. It would be like finding a javelina at Encanto Park in Phoenix. Or maybe like finding a polar bear hanging out in Central Park, NYC.  

3. And this is my biggest concern: That's a small dangerous gator. A baby. Where is mama?? 

In other news, I'm meeting my pal, Joy, for a walk around Spring Lake park in an hour.  

A Random Texarkana Wednesday

Today I met Master Gardener and amazing pal, Joy, for my first Master Gardener event in 2026. Every Wednesday she and a few others meet at a group home for the developmentally disabled and work with the residents in their greenhouse.  

I told Joy my news: the house is going on the market (if Tessa ever calls me back). "What?! This seems sudden!" Joy isn't one for sarcasm. So, I did point out this has been in the works since December and she's known this was a distinct possibility. Though she agreed with my statement, she's still perplexed. 

By the way, this greenhouse is awesome. The fire ant colony I encountered in the planter in front of the greenhouse, not so much. 

 

***

After I finished, I called Corona Gail so that I could return a book she'd lent me for next week's book club. Fortunately, I'd only had this book for a week. Given this is the South, I knew what I'd be in for. It is almost impossible to just "drop off a book." But I adore--ADORE--Corona Gail so I didn't mind that I ended up visiting with her for a couple of hours.

Corona Gail has been the new kid to a new town. She knows I'm struggling with the idea of starting over. We sat on her back porch, while she offered sisterly advice and made me remember how much I love her. I told her about my experience at my first Corona night four years ago and how terrified I'd been just showing up in the throes of grief (my father and my aunt had just died). Looking back, I know I laughed more that first night than I ever had. I left with a sense of gratitude for being included and not anticipating there'd be more Corona nights. I told Corona Gail I want to know I can find friends like that again. She assures me I'll be fine. 

***

When I returned home, I got a text saying our Uboxes were on their way from Shreveport. They arrived a couple of hours later. So far, they are empty and I have no energy to fill them. The weather is promising a reprieve for a few days and we are motivated to get them loaded before the next thunderstorm. I think we've got a week. 

 

The Spirit is Thinking About Being Willing

Yesterday, I cleaned out the bathroom cabinets and took a box of hotel toiletries and free samples I'd accumulated in the last 4.5 years to the domestic violence shelter. Additionally, I managed to pack three totes with blankets and sheets and send others (along with a bag of Marty's t-shirts) thrift stores in town. And given this is East Texas, I've already forged into the packed totes to grab additional blankets--in JUNE. Because the weather here is nuts. 

Speaking of nutty weather... Marty and I made a pinky promise to start working on the garage today. Except it is raining like crazy and when it rains, our garage floor is wet. So, that's on hold. 

And the crazy weather is also making the interior of the house VERY dark. For whatever reason, Marty has gotten to an age where he can't stand overhead lights so I'm tripping over the frightened dog because of the lightening and the fact I can't see where I'm going.  I need to live where there is sunlight. There. I said it. 

Also last night, Tessa replied to my 14 hour-old text, telling me she wasn't ignoring me. She'd had a crazy day and would call me in an hour. I told her we could talk today. What I didn't tell her is tomorrow or Thursday is good too.

 Today I'm going to putter around and do other tasks until the rain stops and we can air out the garage. And then I will go back to my babystep to-do list.  

Update: Nah... it didn't happen. I have zero motivation to pack and move. And when Tessa texted me today, I put that off too. This isn't passive aggressiveness. I swear. It's a lack of interest.