Monday morning dawned, and I had troubled over the numbers, written a beautifully heartfelt letter about the care in which this woman’s home would be left. Three decades of her life spent there, I thought it might matter. And perhaps it does. Her love of the property evident in the care and preservation of the space. In the end though money is the almighty ruler.
We phoned the broker to indicate our offer was coming and learned that it would be joined by 8 others. That’s a lot to compete with. Eight offers can make you do crazy things. Eight offers could have made me bid over a $1000. a foot. Eight offers could have had me feeling buyers remorse. In these situations, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve lost something. You can’t win if you don’t even put in a bid, but that feeling that I could have made something of the place lingers.
I’ll know in good time what it went for. My guess is over $700,000. It was listed at $595,000. Admittedly that price was artificially low to drive a bidding frenzy. In this market it works, and it is in the interest of the seller.
So it’s good-bye to 9 Greenwich Street, #3. This weekend there were no properties that I would consider. A few in the neighborhood and in the right price range, but the first on E Springfield Street was perfectly appointed, a lovely recent renovation. The second on Union Park Street Extension was a steal of a deal for a 2 bed, but it was uninspiring.
I am only embarking on #4. I still plan on living in the properties, and for all the trials and tribulations that one must go through – and believe me or not – the moving isn’t one of them, it’s the uncertainty of the bidding game, and mortgages in America today that will be my undoing. Thank goodness I’ve got my duct tape. That stuff really holds the fluff of my life together. Here’s to hoping next Wednesday produces a plethora of properties for which I can choose!