Like a hawk perched high above the interstate waiting to swoop down for roadkill, I haunt the real estate sites hoping to stumble upon my next home. A new listing? Photos to come soon! Price? Size? Location? The hunt has begun and mixed emotions rage like teenaged hormones. My excitement of beginning anew is cast int the bittersweet light of leaving my refuge. Mine. The first home I have ever owned and supported completely on my own. Well, the bank and I really.
All indications are that this will go better than I first expected. The house was built in 1990. I am the third owner in 27 years. The family before me did very little to maintain it and were seriously challenged in the decorating department. I have made it my own but it hasn’t been cheap. Perhaps for once in my life the real estate market will be to my favor.
The environment is good due to lots of odd factors. Most importantly, I believe the upcoming presidential election has people motivated to make a change before we are faced with seriously uncertain results in November. My agent claims they have had the best January and February in five years. When I enquired about the demographics; locals upgrading/downsizing or new folks to the area? She said it was surprisingly lots of new folks either retiring here to be near family or young families; many from outside of the New England area.
A mild winter and low heating fuel prices have made it very pleasant, lulling us all into a sense of comfort as we look forward to the summer. A longer commute in exchange for a more rural lifestyle seems a fair trade; Millenials and Gen-Xers are becoming buyers.
I am learning my way around marketing my home. After a week of thorough, on-my-hands-and-knees cleaning, I met with the agents who sold this house to me. They hadn’t seen it but remembered the wreck it had been. Coincidentally, the woman is an equestrian. My tack room got her attention. We toured the house, ending up in the living room before the fire. As they settled in to check their notes, I watched them visibly relax and smile. “We could show this house as it is today. It’s lovely!”
Eight days of holding my breath. Seven nights of lying awake making mental lists of what to clean and fix and polish and put away… I looked around and realized it will be hard to leave. Where ever I end up, I will have my treasures, my memories, my books and art. It will be home again, just different.
A job, a home – the proverbial cards have all been thrown up in the air. I am watching them flutter down, waiting to see what lands face side up.
N.B. Kudos to my buddy, Laura for giving me the “cards landing face up” vision.