Friday, October 21, 2011
So I toured the yellow bungalow and fell instantly in love. I tried to seem unimpressed in front of my realtor because as you probably know, buying real estate is like going to Vegas (although I’ve never been to Vegas, but everyone else has). As soon as the wavy glassed, original Craftsman solid front door opened, the game began.
It’s unfortunate that my realtor was also the listing agent. I felt he had a conflict of interest that couldn't be helped so I had to play my cards all by myself and try to be good at it. My children can tell you that I always lose on our family poker nights because I’m no good at bluffing. When I get aces I get a big grin across my face and go all in. They roll their eyes and fold immediately. I don’t get the chips I so richly deserve but the satisfaction of gloating is just good enough.
The price was set high but I did my homework. I poured over the comps again and again. Then made my offer. It was significantly lower than the asking price. She countered and yesterday morning I recountered. I’ve never seen not spoken with her. It was all done through our impartial (I can only pray) negotiator/realtor who was, to belabor this metaphor, the dealer.
Then I got the text. “Congratulations…..You are a new home owner.” You’d think I would have jumped for joy. But instead I got a sick feeling in my stomach. “Lord, are you sure this is where I should be?”
Of course He’s sure. It’s me with the doubts. It’s not even doubts. I’ve had this feeling before (so have you) whenever I’m about to do something brave, risky and ………expensive. The feeling has almost passed and I’m getting excited. The contract is signed, contingent on the inspection, the mortgage and all that.
I think I played my cards well and I’m leaving the table with a happy sigh. Glad that's over.