A full six weeks and still no sale.
We seem to have put our house on the market at an odd time in the calendar: August. Most schools in the area were back in session the following week, so any families who were once interested in relocating were immersed in back-t0-school activities. Shortly after that, we had a triple digit heat wave. Then a volatile stock market was the topic of concern. The next thing we knew, we were in the midst of Labor Day weekend. Two open houses were held in that first few weeks and only a few requests for private viewings.
Then things picked up, just a smidgen. After weeks of cleaning every morning and every night, avoiding cooking (to avoid extensive kitchen cleaning and odor abatement), paying someone regularly to clean the house top to bottom, the requests for private showings picked up. One couple from out of state expressed interest, as has an investor. We are, however, still waiting for offers.
I could complain about how tired I am, how much my back hurts from the daily 3-hour round-trip commute; I could complain about living with a fraction of my possession, clothes and general use items (because the house is staged to look like it could be lived in, not that it is lived in). I could complain about the lack of time for a social life or seeing my grandkids less often than I like; I could fret out loud about the fact that I am falling behind at work and haven't yet prepped for my tenure committee meeting next week, or plenty of other things.
That all sounds so depressing.
Things I am happy about and grateful for: living alone with my husband for the first time ever, my job, the newest grandbaby, and all the small things that make me happy like a PM with a Facebook friend and wonderful and supportive friends.
We are certainly learning how to clean up after ourselves more often (like every time we move an inch) and appreciate meal planning more than ever before. The house looks great, if not a little bit sterile.
So for the moment, we're still here.
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