My stomach twists with the thought. An uncomfortable wringing of my internal hands as I consider the distressing notion – should I lower the price again? Should I call even a win? Nothing gained after all that work feels like a loss. Feels like a devastating defeat. “Would it be drastic” ? I ask myself as I feel my stomach clench again. My seat of intuition lives squarely in my gut. I adore all the flowery language about a fluttering heart, a swooning head, the walking on air sort of talk that I want to force myself to feel, but my stomach is the ruler of my kingdom. It knows all the good, all that is possible, and all the evil that is likely to come if I don’t turn heal, and run as fast as I can in the other direction. My stomach is so much smarter than my head, or my heart. Those two jokers leave me in the lurch again, and again.
My colleague Bruce Shick reminded me that “no decision, was a decision” just the other day. He wasn’t talking about my house when he said it, but he mine as well have been. I pick up pieces of wisdom, and sometimes bad advice, Hanseling my way through the forest of recommendations, only to find that some bird has made short work of my path home, and I’ve become completely lost, immobile, unable to make a decision. Bruce’s thoughtful grandfatherly tone rings in my ears: “no decision, IS a decision”.
I guess I have decided to leave it on the market for now. Leave it at the price it’s currently listed. Leave it up to hope, or fate, some higher power – boy I thought St. Joseph would have grown terribly uncomfortable, situated as he was, in the garden, upside down and all, but he seems to like it enough not to find me a buyer.
This Delta Variant isn’t going to help the fall market, and those stubborn work from homer’s will continue to work from someplace that I suspect isn’t their home at all. This not selling isn’t a disaster, though it feels a bit like one. My intuition, that bellybutton of a bullseye has released its iron grip as I come to terms with the fact that it’s really my impatience that is driving this panic to sell. What do I always tell my readers? “Don’t make an emotional decision friends”. A buyer will come along, and in the mean time I will get working on designing my next imaginary dream house. I’ve never been inside, never seen a photo of its interiors, I just keep a steady pace as I run by, weekend after weekend, imagining my California House on Cape Cod coming to life. Happy Saturday.