Other Wind
06 / June06 / June06 / June

House Kin

About three weeks ago, a realtor called to let us know that one of her agency’s clients was interested in buying our house. Our house is not on the market, but since we’ll be moving one day anyway, we told her we’d be willing to consider an offer. At this point, our house was a mess. We’d been re-organizing some rooms (and I’m kind of a slob sometimes, anyway), so we had to work to make everything presentable. (We even put some stuff in offsite storage, which has made me feel deceptively lighter.)

On the day the buyer was to view the house, we didn’t hear from the realtor for several hours. Then she called to say she hadn’t heard from him and that she’d let us know when she did. Almost two weeks later, after we’d already settled back into the idea of not selling our house, we heard from the realtor that the buyer was still interested. Apparently, he had extended his vacation and had not bothered to let her know. (Or perhaps she didn’t bother to let us know.)

We were annoyed at that point, because the house had already fallen back into disarray. Still, we made it as presentable as possible. Then, to make a long story short (which is a futile claim at this point, since I’ve already told most of the story), the guy came by on Saturday to view the house. My mind was set slightly against him already. I figured he’d seem as inconsiderate in person as he did in my imagination, but I actually liked him. He seemed similar to David and me, and he probably is in some way, since he likes our house. He is young (probably a little younger than us) and single, and he’s eager to have an old house. He likes the big yard (a feature David and I have come to realize we should do without) and the view. He seemed pleased with everything. But what really makes me like him, and I know I’m strange, is how, yesterday, when he came back to ask if he could take some pictures of the property for his parents, he felt the need to explain to David why he was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the day before. That is the kind of thing I do—apologize for something unnecessarily, become embarrassed by something no one else has even noticed. It makes me happy to think our house could pass on to someone who is a little silly like me.

Please don’t read this entry without reading the update. I’d hate to leave it at this.