You know how sometimes you get this nagging feeling like something is wrong, but you don't know what? I was getting dressed yesterday to film that last day of touring homes in Sacramento for House Hunters. Something kept bugging me, but it just wasn't coming to the top of my mind. As I brushed on mascara, it hit me. The home where where we were to be filming did not have a lockbox. It had been removed, and the sellers had the key.

I quickly called the sellers and asked if they could run over to the home at 9 AM to let the producers in. No problem. That meant I actually had an extra hour before leaving the house because we don't start filming until 10 AM, but again, that little voice in the back of my head said I should arrive early anyway. After all, what difference does it make if I'm answering my cell phone at home or at the house in Natomas?

Pulled up in front of the home at 9:02. The sellers were gone. Yikes. Looked like a river flowing on the west side, pouring into the street. The back yard was pretty much flooded. Opened the garage door to look for the sprinkler system controls, but the garage was packed to the ceiling with boxes and furniture. Darn, why was I wearing a dress? I managed to crawl over a chair, slide around boxes, find the controls and turn off the system.

Then I went back into the yard to inspect. The water was still bubbling up. I could see a sprinkler head not too far from the hole in the ground, which told me it probably wasn't a broken sprinkler head. I had worn my most comfortable shoes, too -- and if shoes are comfortable you know they didn't come from Target. Stepped over an area of tree bark, which looked to be pretty dry and sunk into the earth.

Now my feet were soaked and full of mud. Oh, what to do next? Wash my shoes and feet or turn off the water? I was so hoping the shut-off wasn't located on the west side of that home, but since I no longer had any shoes, that wasn't really a huge deal. I washed off my shoes, called the sellers again to ask where the water shutoff was located and turned off the water to the house.

Fortunately, by the time we filmed the back yard, the lake had vanished.

The producer handed me the mike, and that's when I realized I was wearing a dress without pockets. Couldn't he just tape it to my back? No. He offered to wrap duct tape around my waist, but that would have looked awful. See, I knew there was something wrong when I was getting dressed. Could I carry it in my hand? No. We stood there looking at each other. Well, could I clip it to my underwear? Yes, that would work.

Actually, we wrapped up the last home pretty quickly. Faster than the first 2 days of production. When you see the show, which might be sometime this winter, I'm betting viewers will be arguing over which home the buyers chose. All three were Sacramento short sales. So we had a few discussions on camera about what short sales are and how to get short sale offers accepted. There's even a scene at the Lyon Natomas office when I share the results of an offer with the buyers. It's hilarious. I can't wait for you guys to watch it.

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Elizabeth Weintraub is an author, home buying columnist for The New York Times-owned About.com, a Land Park resident, and a Land Park real estate agent who specializes in older, classic homes in Land Park, Curtis Park, Midtown and East Sacramento. Weintraub is also a Sacramento Short Sale agent who lists and successfully sells short sales throughout Sacramento. Call Elizabeth Weintraub at 916.233.6759. Put 35 years of real estate experience to work for you. DRE License # 00697006.

The Short Sale Savior, by Elizabeth Weintraub, available through bookstores everywhere and at Amazon.com.

Photo: Elizabeth Weintraub