Done Deal
We put our townhouse up on the market earlier this month but it came with a condition that we would lease it back for another year whilst waiting for our new place to be ready. Most of the real estate negotiators we encountered scoffed at our asking price and others at the condition, convinced we would not be able to find buyers who would not insist on immediate vacant possession once the transaction was complete.
Four weekends, viewings by at least 12 different interested parties, and no less than 5 serious offers later, we were finally able to prove them wrong yesterday. The figure was closer to our asking price than we had expected, although we were obliged to throw in a couple of pieces of furniture as a "gesture", yet I was hardly thrilled when we received the earnest deposit cheque. Instead, I only felt a slight relief that I no longer had to expose my house and how we lived to the scrutiny of mere strangers.
Last night saw me waking up in the middle of the night, suddenly clutched by a foreboding sense of dread. Of what? I'm still not quite sure. After tossing and turning for an hour, I woke Hubby up and despite his reassurances, it took a while before I fell asleep again. And even then, my slumber was disturbed by dreams about properties. The funny thing is Nat seemed to empathise with me as she too, took much longer than usual to fall asleep and kept having night terrors, a somewhat rare occurrence these days.
Why do I not feel happy and excited? The purchasers come across as genuine and appear to be okay-enough landlords-to-be as well as responsible homeowners. They kept asserting that they loved what we have done to the house so they will no doubt look after it just as well. Could it be that I have developed such a strong attachment to the place we have called home for the past 3 years that I'm unwilling to let it go? Or am I harbouring some sort of deep-rooted insecurity about living in a rented home? Heaven only knows.
But the deed is done. In about a year's time, I pray I will find solace in a new place to call home.
Four weekends, viewings by at least 12 different interested parties, and no less than 5 serious offers later, we were finally able to prove them wrong yesterday. The figure was closer to our asking price than we had expected, although we were obliged to throw in a couple of pieces of furniture as a "gesture", yet I was hardly thrilled when we received the earnest deposit cheque. Instead, I only felt a slight relief that I no longer had to expose my house and how we lived to the scrutiny of mere strangers.
Last night saw me waking up in the middle of the night, suddenly clutched by a foreboding sense of dread. Of what? I'm still not quite sure. After tossing and turning for an hour, I woke Hubby up and despite his reassurances, it took a while before I fell asleep again. And even then, my slumber was disturbed by dreams about properties. The funny thing is Nat seemed to empathise with me as she too, took much longer than usual to fall asleep and kept having night terrors, a somewhat rare occurrence these days.
Why do I not feel happy and excited? The purchasers come across as genuine and appear to be okay-enough landlords-to-be as well as responsible homeowners. They kept asserting that they loved what we have done to the house so they will no doubt look after it just as well. Could it be that I have developed such a strong attachment to the place we have called home for the past 3 years that I'm unwilling to let it go? Or am I harbouring some sort of deep-rooted insecurity about living in a rented home? Heaven only knows.
But the deed is done. In about a year's time, I pray I will find solace in a new place to call home.
Labels: Life
posted by melliebaby @ 6:07 PM
6 comments
