Selling a house has so much to do with timing, right place and all that. What if your just south of noon, a little left of the pathway to the perfect buyer, and are feeling a little down under? What if your timing is off, the market is off, or say, there is a pandemic that’s got your compass stopping anywhere but your true north? Some might say it’s fate, your destiny, never meant to be, but not me. I’m impatient. Not in the way I expect everything to magically fall into place. Where would the fun be in that? No the impatience in me burns in my belly and rises up in my chest, the urgency I feel has me bursting from my seat, pacing the floor, opening and closing the door, and asking to no one in particular, and anyone in earshot – where are you dear buyer? I’m waiting.

I’m not shy about asking for help. I’ve got an excellent agent – more than one – a team actually, and they are all lovely, communicative, and talented. The Stephen Cohen Team penned the perfect prose for my property, placed an enormous sign on the fence announcing “Something Pretty’s Inside”, and posted social media announcements galore to get the word out. They’ve been ready and willing to show it, and have dutifully help open houses, but the people have gone elsewhere. The north shore, the south shore, the Cape, the islands, Costa Rica, Bali, a friend’s back yard in the country. Who all knows where they have made off to, but it is time to come home to the city, to work, to re-enter the human race and they, that one or two lucky someone(s) are not going to want to miss out on this live large in the city property.

I’ve pulled out all the stops. My good friend Christine came to visit, plants in hand, shop girl star management attitude in toe, and we rolled up our sleeves, rearranged furniture, pulled pillows from the closet until we found the perfect combination that would say: I could live here, I’ll take it, tell me the pillows come with the deal. Of course they do, anything for you, I’d say.

There was one more very important thing I thought I must do, and that was to surreptitiously plant a statue of St. Joseph upside down, facing my condo, in the back yard of my building. I had to do it in secret, because I don’t actually have egress rights to the garden below, but I thought the renters wouldn’t mind if they caught me, because I keep it clean. What they thought of me placing my faith in a small plastic figure, I will likely never know. It is fitting that St. Joseph a selfless and devoted carpenter, would be the middle man between me, or you for that matter, and a higher power. I promised St. Joseph that when my property is expeditiously sold, I will dig him up and carry him with me to my next home. He had a calling, and I have my own. I have this idea, that together we will get this jewel box of a condo sold.