Sucktastic #2
Today we got an offer from new people. They saw our house yesterday for the first time and put in an offer more pathetic than the first sucktastic offer of a few weeks ago. On top of the low offer, they’re requesting seller’s assist. They want us out of here in like 30 days, and they didn’t even give us any hand money, saying instead that they’ll give it after we accept their agreement. They also elected every possible contingency with the opt out option checked instead of the negotiate one. Yeah, that’s a good strong offer.
Not.
Because I think my realtor sensed I was on the edge, he came for a visit this afternoon. With comps in hand, he showed me that we are priced right, that three intelligent people can’t be wrong, and that we have had the unfortunate luck of being given not one, but two crappy offers for absolutely no sensible reason. I was wearing my "Life is Good" shirt when he arrived. I’m not completely sure this whole shirt/attitude thing is working for me.
We countered quickly and with this: full price and we’ll consider moving out sometime this summer and inconveniencing ourselves. Or, give us our settlement when we want it and we’ll maybe consider giving some seller’s assist with a full price offer. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
Our realtor encouraged me (and himself because I think his little pep-talk was for both of us) to move on and focus on what comes next. These people aren’t doing us any good. Focusing on their sucky offer won’t do us any good either.
I’ll tell you something that will though. I was stirring it up as my realtor arrived. . . sangria.
Dear Prospective Home Buyers. . .
I won’t go into the details. I’ll just say that yesterday I was absolutely convinced I was having a heart attack as we finished cleaning up the house for a showing. I had terrible chest pain, and it killed to take a deep breath. When we arrived at my Mom’s house for my grandmother’s 91st birthday party, I told her that I thought I might be dying. She gave me some Maalox, and soon I felt better. Stress-related heartburn, not heart failure. Relief. Having your house on the market when you have two young children is one of the most stressful things you can do.
We have a big open house coming up. Over 200 invitations have been sent out to apartment renters. Door prizes will be given, the mortgage man and realtor will be on site, and if someone buys my house, they’ll get a flat screen HDTV. Because of recent events, I’m considering leaving a note on the counter that reads like this:
Dear Prospective Home Buyers,
If you’re looking for something cheap, you’re at the wrong location. You should probably go visit the Dollar Store and stop wasting my time.
Sincerely,
The Home Sellers
I’ve had it with certain buyers saying we’re "overpriced" when we’re at least $20K beneath the comparable homes right up the street that have 500 square feet less than us and virtually no upgrades to speak of. I’m tired of cleaning and getting my hopes up, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.
Do I approach things with a positive attitude every time someone expresses interest in my home and think that this could be it? Or should I prepare myself for the absolute worst and figure that nothing will come of it to spare myself the intense disappointment?
Anyone have advice? Positive thoughts? A sales agreement for me with a full price offer perhaps?
Straw & Berries
Yesterday my Mom and I took the girls to a farm to pick strawberries. I didn’t realize when my Mom asked us to go that she was going to pick 8 quarts of strawberries. I thought we were going more for the experience of it all.
We were given a row and my Mom and I decided we should each take a side. It was time to divvy up the girls. Big I wanted to go with my Mom and Lil C wanted to stay with me. I thought I was getting the short end of the stick on this one. I was wrong.
Lil C was a natural strawberry picker. She loved it. She kept saying, "Mommy, this is fun. I a having so much fun." Big I almost immediately got bored. She ran ahead in the row and picked whatever she could find, which wasn’t much. Meanwhile, Lil C would only pick perfect berries and she was quickly filling up her basket.
Since Big I had run so far ahead, my Mom hustled down the row to catch up with her and that’s when I heard my Mom yell back at me, "You are never going to believe this."
With Big I, I’m always afraid to guess. Things just happen to that girl. Tonight, she tripped while crossing through a parking lot and skidded on knees and hands. She’s a "Calamity Jane" if I ever saw one.
I saw my Mom going through her purse and throwing her head back laughing. Apparently, Big I got some straw in her Croc’s. She took her shoe off and was balancing her other foot on the edge of my Mom’s strawberry container. She doesn’t exactly have good balance.
The next thing you know, strawberries went flying through the air everywhere. My Mom dug out the piece of straw that started the whole string of unfortunate events, gave her shoe back to her, and started picking up her strawberries. The only problem was that when Big I put her shoe back on, there was a very large and ripe strawberry in it, which she obviously smooshed with her foot which meant that my Mom now had to clean up yet another mess.
Meanwhile, Lil C got tired and decided she’d just sit down in the middle of the row and wait for us to finish. I definitely got the better partner.
Straw & Berries
Yesterday my Mom and I took the girls to a farm to pick strawberries. I didn’t realize when my Mom asked us to go that she was going to pick 8 quarts of strawberries. I thought we were going more for the experience of it all.
We were given a row and my Mom and I decided we should each take a side. It was time to divvy up the girls. Big I wanted to go with my Mom and Lil C wanted to stay with me. I thought I was getting the short end of the stick on this one. I was wrong.
Lil C was a natural strawberry picker. She loved it. She kept saying, "Mommy, this is fun. I a having so much fun." Big I almost immediately got bored. She ran ahead in the row and picked whatever she could find, which wasn’t much. Meanwhile, Lil C would only pick perfect berries and she was quickly filling up her basket.
Since Big I had run so far ahead, my Mom hustled down the row to catch up with her and that’s when I heard my Mom yell back at me, "You are never going to believe this."
With Big I, I’m always afraid to guess. Things just happen to that girl. Tonight, she tripped while crossing through a parking lot and skidded on knees and hands. She’s a "Calamity Jane" if I ever saw one.
I saw my Mom going through her purse and throwing her head back laughing. Apparently, Big I got some straw in her Croc’s. She took her shoe off and was balancing her other foot on the edge of my Mom’s strawberry container. She doesn’t exactly have good balance.
The next thing you know, strawberries went flying through the air everywhere. My Mom dug out the piece of straw that started the whole string of unfortunate events, gave her shoe back to her, and started picking up her strawberries. The only problem was that when Big I put her shoe back on, there was a very large and ripe strawberry in it, which she obviously smooshed with her foot which meant that my Mom now had to clean up yet another mess.
Meanwhile, Lil C got tired and decided she’d just sit down in the middle of the row and wait for us to finish. I definitely got the better partner.
Dear Tiger
On Wednesday, I went to see my physical therapist to pick up my shiny new high-tech ACL sports brace. Considering the cost of it, one would think it would come encrusted with diamonds. It doesn’t. Very disappointing.
My PT asked me how I’m doing and I told him that the cortisone shot didn’t work. I’m still having pain at the top of my tibia. I’m beginning to think I always will. I have a few more weeks of taking it easy and then I’m technically allowed to go back to karate. The thing is, I don’t think I’ll be ready.
Sure, I have my brace. I’ve done the intense physical therapy. This week, I’ll go join the gym and continue my exercises on my own. Mentally, I’m terrified of doing this again. I’m afraid I’ll tear it right apart again and I don’t feel confident that my knee has had enough time to heal. I’m on my own now, and that is exciting but scary all at the same time.
Despite this, in one sense, this week I’ve ended a major part of this ACL journey. I’m finished with doctors appointments, physical therapy and all too frequent co-pays. Tiger, your ACL journey is just about to begin.
I want you to know how impressed I am that you played through the pain. I know the excruciating pain that comes from twisting on an ACL that’s torn, and it is breathtaking. The fact that you not only played, but won, is simply amazing to me. Everyone knows you’re a great golfer, but those who have endured ACL injuries have a whole new appreciation for your talent and perseverance.
Being the celebrity that you are, I’m sure you’ll have the best of care, pre and post op. Despite this, only you will feel the pain and know the frustration that comes with recovering from this type of surgery. My advice to you is simple: take all the time that you need to heal. Golf will still be there when you’re ready to return. And for your sanity during those first few days, don’t forget healthy doses of both prune juice and percoset.
My best to you Tiger, for a safe surgery and a speedy recovery,
BBM
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
