The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Diary of a Mad Realtor

Miles Traveled: 104
Houses Viewed: 6
Frantic Cell Phone Calls Made: 14
Probable Gallons of Sweat I Oozed: 3

I had a plan today. It was a good plan. It was a logical plan. It would have worked… if I was any other person who had not apparently angered the God of Chaos in a former life.

This was the plan:

7:30 AM – Pick up co-op produce.

10 AM – Attend free yoga class in Chandler (because free is my favorite word. Sometimes I go to my weekly office meeting only for the free breakfast. I get the super cruddy paper towels that fall apart when you use them and you have to use another good paper towel to clean up the mess at the grocery store just because they’re free with a coupon. And I love yoga. Free + yoga = Happy Pants Dance).

Noon – Pick up buyers in Chandler to take to Maricopa to see 6 houses.

3:30ish PM – Meet with sellers to present offer I received yesterday.

5ish PM – Home

But I’m not that person who the God of Chaos ignores and doesn’t want to screw with. So instead, this is how it went:

Co-op produce went fine (because I sent The Webmaster [husband]).

I headed out to the yoga class with my showings printed and organized and a change of clothes and makeup touch up. I usually take classes at the Red Mountain Multigenerational Center, which is awesome and cheap and close, and I love it. It is, however, geared to the local crowd. The average age in my classes is me + 35 years. I really think the stretching is reducing my joint pain and increasing my range of motion and the strength training is totally helping me operate those hard to turn child-proof medication bottles.

This yoga studio, on the other hand, looked like a Scottsdale dance club. It had stunning hardwood floors, color-lighted ceiling that changed every 2 minutes and gorgeous frosted glass walls. The average age of this place was clearly me – 10 years + more hipness than I’ve ever achieved.

I had showered and put on makeup before class in anticipation of a quick wardrobe change after to ready me for an afternoon of property showings. After and hour and a half of headstands, tree poses and curling my knees back over my ears, however, I was dripping with sweat and inappropriately greasy for showing houses.

I did my best to freshen up (resisting the urge to apply deodorant/antiperspirant to the back of my neck) and headed out to the GOV (Giant Orange miniVan). I stowed my things in the back of the car and discovered that my car battery was as dead as a doornail.

This realization set off a rapid-fire sequence of damsel in distress phone calls and texts to clients, friends and family.

The eventual ‘solution’ to the problem was that my poor clients, who had expected me to pick them up in my giant showing-friendly van, picked me up from the parking lot I’d been standing in for 30 minutes (furthering the greasy, excessively and inappropriately sweaty problem) in their two-door convertible coup. And thus, the four of us rode the 28 miles to Maricopa and viewed 6 spider web riddled, occasionally so stinky we couldn’t go upstairs, hideously painted (I’m not exaggerating, on this, one living room featured the attractive color pairing of yellow and brown; I affectionately think of it as the #1 and #2 house) abandoned foreclosures and short sales. At one point, we decided that it would be easier for all of us to get in and out of the tiny car if we drove with the top down. In 105 degree heat. This lasted all of two houses until their eleven year old daughter started begging to be dropped off at the Dairy Queen so she didn’t pass out from heat exhaustion.

After this drippy and odorific portion of the day, I was dropped back off at the god-forsaken battery killing parking lot to meet a lovely friend who agreed to give me a jump.

I was also forced to reschedule the presentation of the offer to my sellers, kicking off the karmic retribution that can only come with a day like this: rescheduling the appointment allowed time for two more offers to roll in on the property. I now have three to present tomorrow.

So I’m home now, alternately swigging water and wine (to help with the eventual soreness from the non-elderly yoga). And I suppose all-in-all, despite the Chaos God hurling his lightning bolts down from the sky at me, the day was a success.

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