Muck, mire and money

Oh, for fuck’s sake it’s expensive to get a house ready for sale.

SO MANY problems. If the house was built in 1979, your problems are double.

It started with the first real estate agent who told me they wouldn’t list the house until I moved out. This is a first for me. Usually I stay at my house, move a few things out and around and everyone understands that people are LIVING in the house they’re selling. That pressure hit me hard. I had nowhere to go, no plan, no help.

The agent said, and I quote, “I won’t put the house on the MLS until you move out. People between the ages of 20 and 30 can’t visualize a space with your stuff in it.”

Hmmm.

Flatlanders

Now, I’ll admit, my house is a mountain house. It’s foolish to try and dress it up in any way. I’ve had so many discussions with people about “why is this there? What is this for?”

Listen. If I have to explain it that tells me you’re a townie and you’re in for a very rough surprise just like I was when I moved into the house in October 2010. Fucking surprised at EVERYTHING. The dirt, the floor, stuff to burn, stupid stuff in stupid places, dealing with snow and mud, bloody hell, the list goes on and on. If I’d known what was in store, I wouldn’t have bought the house.

The people who’ve come through to look at it are flatlanders. They have no clue what they’re looking for. They want Highlands Ranch on mountain acreage. Believe me, there are plenty if that’s what they want and can afford. Mazel Tov.

There’s a note in the realtor’s listing that says the house is monitored with both audio and video. They still blab away and I listen. The lady today liked the house. She said it was first on her list. The real estate agent, an obvious townie in this clean car said, “The next one will change your mind and become your first choice.”

I can say that now that it’s on the market that I’ve been wanting to move for the last few years. Probably soon after I left the Canyon Courier. The isolation is tough. You have to work HARD to have human connection. Things like churches, hobby group, radical political groups and donating time, effort and money to the local animal shelter.

I have my reasons

The main reason I didn’t move sooner? Few people know this. Very few. The reason? The cats. To take The Girls out of their prey area would have made them unbearable to live with. Now at 14, they’re less territorial although this summer, Skeeter did kill 23 mice/voles. At one point she got sick and had to go to the vet and get an xray of her tummy. It showed between 6-8 undigested mice in her gut. The staff had fun counting little tails, skulls, teeth. It’s a vet thing, I guess.

Jack and Nina had no trouble whatsoever when it came to moving and I moved them four times. They were philosophical about the whole things. Hi-de-do, here we go. As long as their food, beds, treats and pets make the move, they were fine. But they were confirmed indoor cats. Nina liked to pretend she was an alley cat. An alley cat in a $600 coat and she’d wander around the yard. She loved drinking water from the hose and laying among the potted plants. Jack was king of all he surveyed.

On actual moving day I took The Girls to Aspen Creek Boarding. They’re affiliated with Aspen Creek Vet which has been the most incredible vet I’ve worked with. Since The Girls were born in the house and have never moved until age 14, I thought having them out of the house was smart.

I dropped them off but prior to the ride, I didn’t heavily sedate Skeeter. Traveling with her requires heavy medication. Either for me or for her.

Five hours later I got a text from the boarding facility. Petticoat was flat. Not eating, withdrawn, not responding to treats or affection. They took her up to the vet’s office 50 feet away. When they took the lid off her carrier and she saw her “boyfriend” Dr. Brett, she perked right up. Wanted a Churu, wanted pets and love. In the end Skeeter stayed at the boarding facility because she did well on her own, and Petticoat became one of the office girls. The cost for a 3-day stay? $450+.

It took days for them to come out once I got them to the new apartment. A month later they’re still adjusting.

Nine months up here doesn’t make you an expert

I laugh at writing that. Five years doesn’t make you an expert. Snow, the unavailability of trustworthy contractors, extra travel costs, good wood, reliable plow drivers, all those things have to be experienced to understand. The last thing my house needs is a townie but I’m told my friends and family that the important thing is getting my asking price. Fuck whoever buys it.

I have a new neighbor who’s a know-it-all. The neighbors and I on the street took mere minutes to size him up. Something isn’t quite right there.

The first people to come in for the first open house came in all smiles. Let’s call him “Mr. Nice Dad.” I was there, grabbing some stuff I wanted out of the shed, pretending to be the agent’s assistant. The white-haired man says to me, “I hear the old lady who lives here is ready to give it up.” I don’t think he was talking about sex, he was talking about getting the house for a steal.

I texted the neighbor because there’s only one person who’d say that and another guy stupid enough to repeat it. I asked him did you tell your friend, “I hear the old lady who lives here is ready to give it up.” I told him to that maybe learning how to phrase things better would be helpful. Perhaps say, “She’s moving to Lakewood” and leave it at that. I told him I deserved respect and he apologized.

According the agent and another person, the neighbor then proceeds to come over and go through the house with his friend, pointing out that, ‘This is wrong, that’s wrong.” Like he’s some sort of expert. Other people during the open house heard what he was saying.

I find out he was bad-mouthing the house and people heard it. I got texts saying, “Hey, he’s really doing a number on your house.

They also wanted to go under the house into the crawlspace and look around. The agent told them, “Sign a contract and you can look after the inspection.”

I asked him if he said those things. He denied it. I told him, “Wanna see the texts?” at which point he says he can’t ‘engage’ further and GLWS.

I told him to stay off the property, the yard, the house.

I hate it when assholes are right

Now, I’ll be honest, Mr. Nice Dad did spot some stuff. I refuse to give any credit to the neighbor. There is some cloudiness on the south windows. The roof is a little rough.

I checked with my roofer and he said I need a new roof. Regardless if I’m staying or not, I need a new roof. The wind has lifted nails and shingles exposing some of the flashing to moisture. FFS.

I found a glass guy and he’s given me a fair price to remove the cloudy glass, remove the greenhouse and put in a new window there.

But fuck them.

I know, I know, why not just give concessions? I’m not sure. Probably because I put SO MUCH work into that house. It’s not the shack the townies think it is. I gave the realtor ‘before’ pictures that are hard to believe that when standing in the front room, that it’s the same room with the wooden planks behind the stove (a violation BTW), the exposed Tyvek where they took down the wall and the foil-embossed wallpaper from the 1980s.

A neighbor who knew the house when it was at its roughest said he was really impressed with the work done inside. That it was a completely different house and worth the asking price. That neighbor and I bear the brunt of the poor choices made by the new neighbor. It’s nice to have someone one your side.

The balancing act

Also, there’s capital gains tax. You really only know if you know. There’s a formula that determines if you have a stiff penalty for making too much money off a private home sale. I am making a profit off the home sale. Not like the $14,000 I made off the Highlands Ranch house, not like the $110,000 I made off north Denver house. The only difference is I’m not buying right now. That usually takes care of any capital gains issues. But the truth is I need a break. A fucking break from being a homeowner. All the problems, all the worry …oy!

See, I have receipts for ALL the work done. Except for the trees. Tree guys don’t give receipts, don’t take checks, don’t use Venmo and all I really have is this blog SHOWING the work being done. I’ve spent $44,000 on trees. No receipt? No deduction. These ‘costs’ help when it comes to taxes. My blog is all I have to show the work being done.

One fool at the open house said he did research on the house and that I bought it dirt cheap, which I did, and that I don’t deserve the equity. The realtor basically said, “So what?”

There’s method to my madness and I get it that people criticize my thinking, yada, yada, yada. Very, very few people take me seriously. I’m used to it. Of course I don’t let very people into my life. There’s a couple. OK, there’s one. Someone I trust. Someone whose patience is wearing a bit thin. An apartment and a mortgage, three utility companies bills, two internets. I’m a problem child wherever I go. But in all fairness, the move was his suggestion because even though the house is/was a wise investment, it’s a money pit.

Watchful eye, snacks, internet and 911 on speed dial

You can count on the fact I’ll be there while this work is done. Even the roof. My wi-fi still works and I can bring along snacks, my computer and my folding chair and set up camp in the driveway.

When the glass work is being done, I’d like pictures of the greenhouse being taken down since it’s part of the house’s charm. But the windows are clouded from the direct sunlight 365 days a year. I’ve grown many flowers there and it brightened the kitchen area. It’s gotta go.

I’ll be there watching to keep the neighbor away from people working on my house. I texted him specifically after last week’s open house that he’s to stay out of my yard and out of my house. I will call 911 and report him for trespassing.

Think I’m exaggerating? So far he’s charmingly accosted the man who did the drone/photo work, the people who were there to measure for a fence (I got a bug up my ass after the whole open house nonsense), the lady I paid to clean my house told me they “stopped by” to find out if she was the new owner. His wife accosted the survey guy when he was trying to work. “What are you doing? Why are you doing that?” How stupid do you have to be to not look at someone with core survey instruments and know they’re doing a survey? Did YOU pay for it? No, I don’t think you did. Mind your own FN business. The generally consensus is “they’re so nice.” Neighbors used to say it until warning signs starting popping up.

My tree guy won’t come over any longer. While we were working on the 18 trees, his wife was recording us while we working on MY property. When in my own back yard, they recorded Joe D from their upper deck while he removed small trees. Joe got pretty hot because previously the neighbor said some pretty insulting things while bragging about his ‘summer job.’

Calling 911, well, it’ll probably turn out the way it did when his dog was loose on my property and I called animal control. The dog, Penny is a major irritation in the neighborhood. It’s like they use their loose dog to meet people. The dog goes running up to people walking on the road, he goes and gets the dog, picks her up and holds her like a baby because she’s getting the other dogs riled up and holds them hostage with tales of his home improvements yet to come.

Now I had video from the Ring camera of the dog trying to get into the house The housekeeper doesn’t know the dog and is wisely leery of loose animals. I forwarded the video to animal control. An hour later he and his wife are at the Ring camera saying they were sorry and wasn’t it funny that the animal control officer is a work-out buddy of his. Yah, wasn’t that funny.

It’s both hard to let go and easy to let go of the house. So much damn work, so much money, so many times the house protected me from the weather, animals, Crazy Rod, Mr. I’m an Engineer and lots of things I probably don’t even know about.

At least I have my blog. It reminds me that while I won’t live there anymore, the blog is evidence that I did. All the posts, pictures, videos. I have little concern it’s not seen far and wide. Who gives a fuck about a mountain house? Probably only if Robert Redford lived here, too. Next life. maybe.

But there’s a buyer out there somewhere. Where are they?

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9264-Sandy-Ln-Conifer-CO-80433/13839721_zpid/