We got 10 offers for our house, some above asking price. And, guys, people wrote LETTERS and included pictures of themselves with their babies or dogs. We were not expecting to have to read through letters. Luckily, the buyers were all equally good folks, so we did not have to discard any of them and that left a level playing field.
At the meeting with the realtors, since all things were even in terms of buyers personalities, we picked the person offering most money and said, "Okay, this one." They looked at us and said, "Um, no, now we ask them to counter-offer." So, that's what's happening the rest of the week. BIDDING WAR.
Wow, Scrappy! That's great!
We were just hoping to get one offer, you know? So this is kind of overwhelming. But in a good way.
That's great! And crazy. I remember Betsy HP having to write letters on offers way back when.
My seller didn't even show up at closing. Never met him (slumlord.) It was me, realtor & title lawyer. And I got it for less than asking, especially after the repair work I requested. Markets so different.
I came out of GotG hopped up on happiness and adrenaline, and I put one of my favorite CDs into my new CD player in the car. My new sound system is
nice.
It was very hard to drive slow.
I wrote a couple of letters when I was buying a couple of years ago and apparently my letter on this townhome is what put my bid over the others she had. It wasn't about the money because she was willing to lower the price if the appraisal came in lower than my offer.
Oh good, Connie. Keep that mood going.
Scrappy, that's such fantastic news. And for me, it would sweeten leaving a place I'd worked to make home to know people really wanted it, enough to write letters, and bid for it.
We finally got around to putting bookcases together and rearranging the furniture to accomodate them. There are three six-footers (only two-feet wide), two of which bracket the entertainment stand, which was built to fit in a corner. There will be a low unit between one of those uprights and the third. We got the big heavy print positioned between them, rehung the smaller painting between the windows, and centered the large painting in the vacant wall space on the end wall. The furniture has been totally scrambled, and for those of you who remember the contention over the catcher's mitt recliner, on his own bat, H confessed it has always been too big to be really comfortable for him, and a neighbor with a truck is taking it to Habitat.
It's laughable. Neighbors have dropped by, and boggled. "It's all--*different*. I don't know where I am!" Who knew they were so invested?
But this is one instance where change is good. Tomorrow I unbox the books, and at some point call on the volunteer community librarian to cull through for anything they can use. The rest will be shelved, or donated. All the dvds in one place!
I need to investigate book steps, so I can double-shelve and still see all the spines.
Oh and while I'm here? The inventor of scoots deserves a medal. And cheesecake.
Yay, bookshelves!
Yay, offers!
I need someone to offer compelling reasons not to buy this painting [link] .
I've failed you, Windsparrow. I have no reasons not to, compelling or otherwise. Do you have a place picked out to hang it?
ETA: One should always be receptive to revelations. H picked up one of those glider chairs made for the nursery. There was no matching footstool, but he has always wanted one of the chairs, he thinks they're *so* comfy. I hated the thing. It faux "Early American" oak finished wood, with the faux Boston rocker top rail, and spotty flecked midrange boring blue cushions. Haaated. During the furniture waltz, he parked it beneath the planets painting, and suddenly, against the starfield, the chair's upholstery looked right at home. I still don't find it attractive, but I don't actively hate it, now. (And it is actually pretty comfy)
