September 4, 2006

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2006

Our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often imprisoned, rather than housed, in them.

- Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862), Walden: Economy, 1854

Every few days I get a knock at my door and, if the person isn't someone I know, I scramble around flicking on lights and primping the house in the hope that this visitor will be the ONE. The one who will buy my house and set me free.

More often than I like, the knocker turns out to be the Jehovah's Witness of owner/sellers: a real estate agent trolling for a listing. Same general concept. You aren't seeing the world the way they believe is in your best interest and so they have come to save you and show you the WAY.

The evangelists du jour were from Coldwell Banker. Two of 'em. When I opened the door they were both standing there with that sincere, concerned head tilt. I half expected one of them to ask me if I'd "heard the Good News?". They had leaflets...er, fliers...from a home they were pimping listing down the street. The one that's been for sale since last year, when sales were still pretty brisk. The one that's still overpriced by about $100,000.

They wanted to know if they could talk to me about how much better I'd do if I had a "professional" helping me. I told them I was already on the MLS and my agent has been advertising the house and doing all she can, but the market is slow. Undeterred, they told me that they could sell my home much faster, get me a higher price and so on and so forth. Yeah, sure, and you'll be financing the home for the buyers too, right?

I was nice...this time. They gave up after a few minutes and skulked back to their Mercedes to go evangelize some other FSBO. At this point in this real estate market, I try to be calm and compassionate with the agents who come to my doorstep. Things are not good and they're practically begging for alms. If things keep going the way they are, it won't be much longer before they start appearing barefoot, carrying little bowls and pleading for a crust of bread.

It's all giving me the willies. I went out and bought some fresh mylar balloons for the sign - I've noticed the calls pick up when the balloons are out. The constant work on the house, while exhausting, will hopefully make a difference when someone does come to see it. I'm having an open house on Wednesday, finally. We'll see what happens.

*A final note for today, for my pal Ana who sees 'signs' everywhere.
The banana plants on the south side of the house, that have always been so small and dodgy looking, have suddenly grown a couple of feet each and two of them have begun to flower. I love bananas and in our old house in the Redland, south of Miami, I had planted 13 different varieties. The damn things never showed the slightest sign of fruiting until the house had been for sale, without a bite, for nearly 5 months. Then, suddenly, four of them had spikes of flowers. I was so excited. We got a solid offer two weeks later and I left the house to it's new owners a week or so before the fruit was ripe. I never got to taste the bananas I'd tended so diligently. With a bit of luck, I won't get to have any of these bananas either.