Just a Day in the Life

What a day! After a master gardener event this morning, I met the Thursday lunch bunch at Jason's Deli. The ladies suggested many ways to make my house not sell, including they'd drive by and throw trash in my front yard. What a way to tell someone they'll be missed. 

When I got home, I stared at my ultra-clean house and sighed. Today is the last day before our home goes on the market. It's clean and all but Roosevelt cares about this. Roosey would rather eat the silk flowers Tessa brought over and knock the vases to the floor in protest. Not that I blame him. 

For those of you who love-love-love Oklahoma!
This is the "Welcome to Oklahoma" sign taken in Arkansas while driving 70 miles an hour.

Anyway, after about thirty minutes of wandering around aimlessly, I convinced Marty to go on a road trip. We ended up in Idabel Oklahoma, which is about an hour away. I'd tell you it was a cultural excursion, but we'd both know I was lying. Idabel is a dump.

Marty and I did find one thrift store, which did not have my 9" mixing bowl I'm trying to replace. I was told by the shop owner, what I'm looking for is "valuable" because it's pyrex (lower case). It isn't. I can replace the entire set of mixing bowls for less than $20 mail order. I only need one bowl. So, the the hunt continues.

We also wandered into a weird convenience store/fast food restaurant called, "Braums." I've heard folks in Texarkana rave about the place, waiting for one to magically appear in our town. However, I didn't understand the appeal with the overpriced groceries and a questionable-looking kitchen to cook a burger.  

I did find a place called "Mia's." Though we didn't stop, I did take a picture of the front and side and sent it to my pal, Mia*, telling her if the whole physician thing doesn't work out, it looks like she has a backup plan and it consists of Jesus and diabetes. 

Mia replied, "I like you, even if you are crazy and watch baseball." 

The side of Mia's Sweet Tooth 

After all our travels, Marty and I stopped by Big Jakes BBQ and bought an order of ribs. We made it home by 5 p.m., made a salad and ate dinner. 

 

*One of these days, I simply should write about my pal Mia, who I spend almost every Wednesday with. But not today. 

Staging

The house is more or less ready to be listed. I guess. Or I thought it was when I told Tessa to order the photographer. 

When I sold houses in Arizona, the rule was less is more. Declutter. Depersonalize. If you have pictures on the wall, it distracts buyers from looking at the features of the house. But, what do I know? 

Our décor style is minimal-eclectic. Most of this has been boxed and stuck in Uboxes. We bought new stuff 28 years ago. Since then we had gifted artist children, whose pictures (and photos) graced our walls. I've refinished several pieces of furniture, which we use. My children have quilts which were hand-made and live on their beds. Plus, my father was an accomplished stained-glass artist, and I have several of his lamps and this beauty that I love, and I would have done a lot of low and dirty things if my brothers even thought about claiming this for themselves when my father died. 

My Daddy made this.

Anyway, Tessa came over yesterday and decided our décor was too white trashy "abrupt" for buyers. "Abrupt" she explained would turn buyers off. For example, the table cloth on our kitchen table "makes the house look like old people live here." Or--hear me out--the table cloth hides the stained and scratched kitchen table. She brought over a table runner and jug to decorate our kitchen table. That table runner will not be on the table before we wake in the morning, because the Overlords LOVE playing under tablecloths when nobody is looking. I'm moving the jug to the counter. Oh yes! She also put an area rug under the kitchen table. Why? I don't know. Something else to vacuum.

Additionally, Tessa told me to buy more fruit for my fruit bowl, because it looks "too empty." I can't eat more fruit! I eat an apple a day, buying enough apples to fill the bowl would be another 10 day's worth of apples. Nope. 

She felt our bedspread needed to be changed out to bring "color" to our bedroom. Because, white and purple aren't colors, I guess. So, she brought us new bedding. Because colorful bedding sells houses. 

This hideous bedspread is being removed exactly
1.3 nanoseconds after the photographer leaves. 

She also insisted that Polly's quilt should be covered up, calling Polly's quilt "old lady" which totally pissed off my daughter. To Tessa's credit, she didn't have any comments about the lamp in her bedroom. 

Colorful but not as unsightly as my bed. But Polly wants her quilt.

To be fair, Tessa is a great agent. She sells more than anyone else in the area. She has great instincts. But I honestly don't think that adding throw pillows to my couch or grouping my lighthouse pictures on my wall and adding a nautical shrine to a corner of my house that never had, needed or wanted a nautical shrine really matters in a starter home in Wake Village. This isn't a Paradise Valley mega mansion. 

I'm not making this up. 
(excuse the paper towel roll)

The housing market is soft. I don't expect this house to sell very quickly. So, maybe adding fake flowers and white rolled up wash cloths in my bathroom (you know, for "color") will be what it takes to bring in a buyer.  

Getting the House Ready

Oh the act of moving is so delightful. We've been packing, cleaning and getting on each other's nerves for the last two weeks. Our steam mop finally decided it had enough and gave out today.

Thank you for your service

Don't Mess with This One

Found this photo when I was cleaning out something this past week. Polly from our trip to Galveston a couple of years ago. 

Packing Update

Not to brag or anything, but today the Sunshines ate take-out chicken wings at the kitchen table. All four of us. On one mostly-cleaned off table. And--get this!--we moved enough boxes out of the way so that Luna could get to her water bowl. Because that's the crazy way we roll. 

In other news, we have three Uboxes completely packed and the master bathroom has been deep cleaned--except the floor, which I'm too tired to do anything about right now. 

In other-other news, with random doors open as we hauled stuff outside, Leon only escaped twice today. The second time I found him by looking into the sky and seeing where the hawk circled. $*%&! cat. 

Oh yes. I want to commemorate our clean garage in posterity. We earned it. 

Aspirations

The best fiction I've written in years came via a text to Tessa: The house will be ready to put on the market next week. 

It looks much better now. Sorta. 

After a full day of sorting, tossing, and packing the mess above doesn't exist any more. Kinda. It is now shoved into boxes, trash bags and donation bins. 

When we left Mesa, 4 and a half years ago, we had five weeks to make the move. The house never hit the real estate market. We were all working. Plus, I was driving about 90 miles round trip about five days a week to take care of my father. And yet, we managed to sort, toss and pack. But I don't remember how. 

We have less stuff now. But we have less storage and so it's all over the place. 

As of today, the majority of the master bedroom is cleared out. There's still a bit in my closet to go. My big dresser can be taken to our Ubox on Buck's next day off. My desk is already there. Polly cleaned out her room as well. We have major furniture to move and the kitchen to sort through. That's most of what's left. However, it feels daunting.  

Today I also sent a group text to the Coronas, telling them the house is going on the market next week and the intention is to move to Florida. I got the sweetest messages in return. And maybe if I wasn't crying through all that, I'd have the energy to finish packing my closet. Tomorrow I'm just turning off my phone. 

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 $15,000 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.  

Update: After talking to our financial advisor, he articulated to Marty what I have been too exhausted to put into words. We gain nothing but time on the market by keeping our price higher than necessary. So, the price is going back to what I originally thought the house was worth. Honestly, it still will probably sit on the market. 

*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.