Along with crocus and pussy willows signs of spring include more home buyers. Consequently, as a seller I’m preparing to put my house on the market. I can’t afford to build the new house without selling the old house, which presents a whole set of additional challenges like where will I live in between. But, that’s another post.
Unlike the sale of my South Carolina house where my main consideration was Martin, here I sort of have the luxury of not having to sell in a hurry. There, I needed a quick sale to spare Martin (and me) from the stress of weeks of showings, making sure each day the house was clean as a whistle, and leaving on possibly short notice for a showing. I also didn’t want us moving to Michigan in snowy January. Having spent decades in the business I knew the realities. I did what was best for our emotional health rather than getting an extra few dollars.
Every sale has its challenges though. This time I’m in a market, which is transitioning from a sellers’ market to a buyers’ market. With inflation building costs have skyrocketed. Some pressure most definitely exists to get the new house under way. I’ve been here before as well. Clean, clean, clean and plain vanilla sell in any market, but it’s even more important in a buyers’ market. They can be choosy about not wanting to paint over the sellers’ blue, pink or mint green colors. They can turn up their noses at what appear to be small maintenance or repair items. They can demand move-in ready. So, here I am touching up my plain vanilla wall paint, decluttering yet again and looking with a buyer’s eye at every detail.
I hunted ruthlessly through closets for anything I hadn’t worn or used in the last year, packing my car for one more trip to Goodwill. On a sunny 52º day with the drip, drip of melting snow sounding in my ears, I burned reams of old records and paperwork in the fire pit, some as much as twenty years old. Why I was hanging onto this is anyone’s guess. I think it was like discarding parts of my life, but on that day it was past energy from which I needed to free myself, not to mention the space it was taking up. While I watched my life going up in flames I envisioned the Phoenix feathered and golden rising from the accumulating gray ashes. That was me rising to rebuild my life. Then, I spied, just beyond the fire pit, fuzzy pussy willows budding out. Retrieving a pair of clippers from my garage I happily snipped several branches to bring inside. Yes, there were signs of spring, a new beginning, a fresh start.