Do you mind if I rant about my house for a while? Thank you. Here, have a doughnut. And check out the new blog design if you are checking in on Reader. Big thanks to the lovely Lena at Simply Fabulous.
So, back to my house. It's an adorable little home, it was everything we could have dreamed of, and loved it dearly. However there are a host of issues (including three growing children) that made living in our sweet little cottage impossible. Life has been a rollercoaster ever since. (Raise your arms up! It's more fun with your arms up! Wooo!)
We're doing a short-sale, and I refuse to feel ashamed or give into the antiquated stigma of stuff like this. It is what it is, the world is a very different landscape now than it was in the past, when neighbors would close the drapes and gossip about "did you hear about the So And So's? No wonder they have to leave town! Scandal!" Or is that just what my own mind conjures up?
We moved into a larger rental once we got an offer on our house and things were, what we presumed to be, progressing quickly. (Stop chuckling, you over there in the corner)
Moving to a place relatively close to the house you're moving out of... I am dubbing it the hardest thing in the world. Why? Because you leave stuff behind. You don't pack everything. Because you reason meh, I'll just pick that up next weekend. And then most of your belongings end up falling into that "pick up later" category... and you want to Windex the mirrors, only to realize the Windex is a 5 minute drive which now seems like an eternity with three kids in tow. I know, first world problems. Totally.
So the sale. Ha. I thought it was going rather smoothly. Turns out- not so much. The bank is being cranky and demanding we pony up large sums of money they know we don't have. (they request our bank statements on a monthly schedule) We had to really think about things. How much were we willing to lose to get out of this house? You know, doing our due diligence and making informed decisions. (or really, me obsessing about it and talking endlessly about it with the now nearly deaf Husband)
By the time we got back to our realtor that, fine, we will go into more debt to get out of the house, she calls me this morning to tell me the buyer is backing out. And as a bonus, she's already thrown our house back up on the market. I can feel the color drain from my face. Not only is this a gigantic speed bump that I do not have the patience for, I know what state the house is in. Moving-refrigerator-goop is all over the tile downstairs, there are stray lamps, ladders, bottles of Windex, and probably a layer of 3 months worth of dust over the whole place.
Not to mention! I remember what it was like showing the house. The realtors who make appointments never show up on time, or at all, and I end up keeping everything/everyone in a painfully pristine state for over three hours. (back when we lived there while showing the house) I know showings will be impossible now with the a/c off, shuttling back and forth with the quite unwilling kiddos. (the girls always drop their hands angrily to their sides and shout "No! Not old house again!")
I am so supremely bummed. As I know just how hard this putting-the-house-back-on-the-market is going to suck.
A second after hanging up the phone (and slamming it hard down on the counter in frustration) I gathered the kids and shoved them all in the car. I managed to spiff up a bit (refrigerator goop is fun to scrub out of grout, LET ME TELL YOU!) while the kids ran through a sprinkler in the backyard.
I am furious, my face is bright crimson... and only partly because I was working in Sahara Desert temperatures of the hot house.