Bid Fair Well

The house is sold. Maybe.

On Tuesday night, we stayed up until 2 a.m., bringing the house to unprecedented levels of cleanliness. On Wednesday morning, we trundled our unhappy cats off to a neighbors’ basement. By Wednesday afternoon, we had our first offer. (Astounding in our not-so-hot market.) The couple bid full asking price, although their realtor wouldn’t tell us that at first. Instead, she went on and on about the personal merits of our potential buyers. “It’s amazing how compatible you are!” They, too, are academics, fond of cats and composting and colorful walls. I actually was pleased to hear that. But why was it so important that we be “compatible”? We’re going to be selling them our house, not taking them on as roommates, right?

That said, it is nice to think of the house going to somebody who will love it like we have. Although I started saying goodbye to this house from almost the moment we moved in (the moment that it became clear that, contrary to promises, our positions here would not be permanent), I have grown attached to it. I don’t put much stock in horoscopes, but what they say about those born under the crabby sign of Cancer definitely applies to me: I’m happiest in the space of home.

I’ve spent huge chunks of the past two years babying this neglected house, refinishing its floors, upgrading its plumbing, and shielding it from the threat of vinyl replacement windows. I’ve painted it (most of the inside), had it painted (all of the outside), found it a new furnace, and a new garage roof. With Adam’s help, I’ve installed closets and pot racks and made art for its walls. I’m not especially handy, but I’ve learned a lot in the last two years. And so, yes, I guess I’d be glad if the next owners were “compatible” with the affection and energies expended here.

Inspection is this weekend. We hear that these buyers have balked, for fairly minor reasons, on two of their previous home bids, so it’s not inconceivable that they would back out on ours. G., who yesterday spent a miserable day hiding behind the filing cabinet in my campus office, would really like it if we could be finished with the home showings. Although signing over this place makes next year even more painfully uncertain, I’m hopeful that the house, at least, will find success on the market.