We scrapped the build-on addition plan in January. We found a different house we really fell for, had three visits there to make sure, and made an offer that was accepted. So, now our house is for sale. We’ve had eight showings in the ten days it’s been on the market.
No one came the day of the Super Bowl or the Monday following. Kinda interesting, I thought.
As though our regular life wasn’t tumultuous enough, we throw this in.
Keep the house looking spic and span. Make sure it smells great. Put away any evidence that a family of six actually lives there. Lock up the dog. Turn on all the lights. Get out of the house quick and don’t come back until the coast is clear.
But today there are no showings. I am home. I can take a small break. I thought that yesterday, though, and then got a message that someone was coming at 3. This is usually what happens, although I will say we already knew on Monday about one for this Saturday. That makes it a whole lot easier.
It sounds like I’m complaining, but I am really relieved and excited that there is this much interest in our little farm. Now, somebody make us an offer.
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