Our house has been on the market for … oh, please don’t make me count. Last time I checked, it was 90 days. Let’s leave it at that. “90-plus” is all the detail I can handle.
Yesterday afternoon, a realtor came by with the parents of her clients–because her clients live out of state, so Mom and Dad and Mrs. Realtor are previewing homes for them.
When our realtor’s office called to set up the appointment, she said that the out-of-state couple is familiar with the model of our home and it’s the model they want (it was our builder’s flagship model for 2 years! Woo hoo!). So, well, I got a little excited. Okay, I think there might have been a bit of clapping and hopping around. Ahem.
So we ran around wiping and sweeping all the horizontal surfaces, hiding the dirty socks and junk mail, turning on all the lights and lighting the scented candles. The realtor had encouraged us to just stick around, since it was late notice. Normally, I would have ignored that and left anyway, but the appointment was for right after school, and the girls needed to finish their homework before Wednesday night church. So we set up shop on the front porch, the four of us, and happily greeted the guests when they arrived. We tried to hear their feedback whenever they handily walked by one of the open windows.
Me (in a hoarse whisper): “Did they just say ‘gorgeous?'”
Pete: “I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”
Me: “I think they did. I’m pretty sure I heard ‘gorgeous!'”
(Note: I have had four surgeries on my ears–long story–and still have about 30% reduced hearing. Pete’s ears are practically bionic. But I distinctly heard the word ‘gorgeous.’ Really.)
When our little one finished with her homework (our guests were still here) she wanted to run around to the back and grab her hula hoop. We agreed, and she tore off down the lovely flagstone path that leads from the front yard to the back yard. Mere seconds later, she came back around the corner, out of breath.
Little One (in a hoarse whisper sounding remarkably like my own): “They’re not going to get the house.”
Me (squeaking): “Why?!”
Little One: “They said that our yard’s not big enough for kids.”
Me: “Get back down there and run around in the yard and have a lot of fun so they can see you! Go! Fast!”
Oh, yes. It was a proud Mommy Moment. Of course, being an obedient Little One, she did my bidding. Who knows what those poor people thought. Little One is a drama princess of the highest order, so I shudder to think what she might have been doing back there. I imagine her running with huge strides around our admittedly-a-little-on-the-small-side lawn, arms spread out like an airplane, shouting something like, “Wow! I love this yard, it’s so big!”
So, yes, I am ashamed. I’ll let you know if we hear from the couple. Could be they’re talent scouts and they’ll call us to cast Little One in a commercial. Or not.
UPDATE: Well, the offer came in, but it’s one of those “how crazy do you think I am?” kind of offers. We have a marvelous realtor who managed to charm the buyer’s agent out of some interesting inside information, so we’re actually still optimistic. We’re sending out the counter this afternoon. Sigh … I foresee a few more days of hyper-vigilant counter wiping in our future.