On Patience

It seems that our lives have become a rerun. The house has been on the market for about six weeks, and the traffic has dropped off to less than a trickle. In the first three weeks, we had six showings and an open house with 10 visits. Pretty fantastic given the time of year and the location of the house. And then...nothing. But we were encouraged by the initial flurry of visitors. Then, the house that we really want was relisted with a lower price. The price that we were going to offer in the first place if we had been given an offer on our house. So, we decided to take the gamble and throw out a contingent offer on the place at full price. They accepted with the modification that they would still be allowed to market their place. Fair enough (so to speak). So, now we wait. And wait. And wait some more.*

To give our place another kick in the shorts, our agent held another open house. Eight visits on this one, with one person so excited by the house that she made a second appointment immediately to return with her husband. Who...of course...isn't as thrilled with the house (she still loves it, BTW).

The overwhelming feedback is that we do not have a master bath (no, we don't), the people want larger bedrooms (ours are neither huge nor small), and they did not like the street (something you could check before the showing, no?). Most people have one of the three as their negative, except for one couple who wanted to have all of the above. In our price range. Laughable, unless you want to have a lot of work to do on making the house livable. Ours is move-in condition.

Part of me is really happy that we have done so much work that the only things that won't work for people are the things we cannot change. The other part of me wants to know where the 2010 version of us is hiding and when we might actually take a walk through the house and fall in love with it. Essentially, our only issue with the house was the street, and we decided that we loved it enough that the street was not a deal-breaker. Still isn't. It's the commute that is killing us slowly. So, if someone said that they really didn't like the commute, I would commend them for figuring it out from the get-go. Instead, I ponder whether placing my daughter's plastic potty in the bedroom counts as en suite facilities.

Speaking of which, the other life happening that forces me to channel much patience is Boudica's refusal to go on the potty. At home. She will happily go "pee pee potty" at school, and doesn't wear a diaper all day while she's in that building. But if I bring her home sans diaper, I get rivers of pee on my floor. No, to be more exact, on my BRAND NEW CARPETING. {sigh}

Today we may have crossed a threshold because she asked to pick out a toy at the store and told me that she can't have it until she goes on the potty at home. Ok, kid. Let's see how much you want Polly Pocket as your playmate.

*For those about to suggest that we bury a St. Joseph to sell the house, I've already done so. He's been hanging around for the last two weeks, and in that time we have actually transitioned into no showings whatsoever.