(Part 1 and Part II precede this final post about our life with our little beach house, Del Mar Cottage, which was recently sold).
Fast forward 11 years.
It was time to sell. Our little cottage by the sea we loved so much - and into which we poured our hearts and souls for years - hadn't seen us much in the previous 3 years, the flood insurance debacle caused by the poorly conceived Biggert-Waters Act had resulted in a dramatic jump in insurance rates for us and we decided not to push our luck insofar as storms went.
Although we had initially intended to sell the cottage once we got it fixed up, we enjoyed spending much of the off season there for years and didn't even consider selling - until we moved to a new house, complete with 10 wooded acres and a small private lake...suddenly, we didn't feel the need to escape the city. After 3 years of not going down there, we decided it was time.
We called the agent who had represented us as buyers (and who had represented us on the purchase of 2 more properties in the same area) and got the house on the market as soon as we could, because once renters starting coming in, showings would be limited to Saturday between 10-4. As would inspections, appraisals and everything else that accompanies the process of buying a house.
As a long time agent in the area, she told us what we could expect to sell it for and how long it would take. (Oh, and when it was all said and done? She was exactly right in setting our expectations).
So, we put the house on the market, expecting all sorts of wonderful things to happen, a flood of showings and offers flying in...but none of that happened. Even though we had been told not to expect that, we still did. Even though it was the dead of winter and the market was just as cold, it didn't matter.
After all, this house was SPECIAL. This was a great deal; rental income was terrific and the house was priced well. Seriously, this was a steal. And it was freaking adorable.
Thrift store furniture had long been replaced with much better stuff; artwork from Yellowhouse Gallery hung on the walls - yeah, it was just perfect.
Where were the offers? What was our agent doing for heaven's sake? What was she doing to get the house sold?
I became a Seller.
I admit it, despite promising myself I wouldn't, I did. I wondered why we hadn't had an offer, where the feedback was (has it even been shown?), what people were saying, what else was selling, what was going on??? Why wasn't I hearing from my agent?
Of course, I WAS hearing from my agent when she had something to report but rather than holding my hand for no good reason, she was busy showing the house, running ads, networking with other agents letting them know about the house, following up on leads - you know, all the stuff we do day in and day out. I KNEW what she was doing, I KNEW she was an exceptional agent. I knew it would happen and I was pretty sure I even knew when.
But it didn't mean I didn't want to hear from her. Frequently.
Many of our sellers have homes in which they have lived for many, many years. They have raised their families, entertained and held parties there. The house has been an integral part of their lives.
This experience has taught me never to forget how important a house is to its owners - because to them, it has been a cherished home. And we need to always remember that.
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