Advancing Without Excitement
The potential buyer of the house is bringing his investor by on Sunday to show him the house. The guy probably thinks that what I am offering is too good to be true. That’s fine. If the investor agrees, I get to probably cheese off my realtor and sell my house for a $48k loss. Woohoo?
The last time I moved, obviously, was when we moved into the house. We were 12 or 13 years younger then. We moved into the house. It was the obvious next step in our lives. We had saved for years for a down payment and looked around at the various houses on the market. (OMG. I am so unbelievably glad we didn’t buy any of the ridiculously overpriced houses we saw back then! I would seriously be stuck in Michigan till I died. Not a joke.) There was the pride of ownership and the hopes and dreams of youth.
Fast forward to today. Barry is not participating in any meaningful way because of his health. In other words, I am moving us to a different state. We are not upgrading; we are downsizing. I feel like I am undoing everything from the first move. The dreams, hopes, optimism, and pride—all gone. This is me waving the white flag of surrender that I am incapable of taking care of Barry and a house.
And yet I am luckier than some people I know. My neighbor next door got foreclosed upon. One of my best friends declared bankruptcy, got foreclosed upon, and had to put her dogs to sleep because they did not handle the move to a Maryland apartment well. At least I have a house to sacrifice.
This is the first time I am advancing to the next stage of my life without any idealism, excitement, or pride. This is all extremely humbling (humiliating), nothing to brag about. And this is if I am lucky enough to sell it!