Oh, it’s a weird thing selling your house – an absolute end of an era, and tonight (because tomorrow is the auction to sell the house) I am walking around trying not to cry, trying not to panic at the prospect of what I am doing.
The house is destined to sell tomorrow - it is a lovely house, it is in a good area, an area sought after by upwardly mobiles who want their children in the right school. And apart from that, there are 6 different families who have indicated that they will be at the auction tomorrow to try and outbid each other to purchase my house – they all want it. Which is good I guess because I will get a good price for it, but….
I’ve spent a bit of time looking at houses to buy, but nothing is grabbing my attention. Wrong area, wrong size, wrong price or just wrong ugly! What is grabbing my attention is the knowledge that there won’t be any new houses on the market for sale before February because New Zealanders disappear and go on holiday during January. In fact, the city empties out and most businesses are closed until the last week in January. So no chance of finding a house to buy during that time. Looks as though I will be staying with family for a while.
I don’t know how on earth people go through this on a regular basis – those people who buy and sell every few years. This house has the memories of my children being born, renovating and painting every room, every surface, every corner, a divorce, teenagers, weddings, grandchild. A lifetime of good memories.
So, it’s not sold until the fat lady sings, but I can hear her in the wings, limbering up. It is a grand old lady of a house and deserves another family to love it and fill it with noise. It needs some rowdy kids to slam out the back door and race down the yard and through the bamboo into the school field again.
I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow – get the champagne ready. And maybe a tissue or two.
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