The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Rabbit’s foot, anyone?

My dad sent me this article yesterday:

Realty Agent Who’ll Work for 0%

It both amused and intrigued me. Who are these nutty people burying statues in their yards to sell their houses? What lucid adult would actually take the time to complete this silly, pointless task? When I voiced this question to my dad (a man whose entire perception of life is based in logic and hard fact), he surprised me with the knowledge that not only my grandmother had done this, but possibly my own mother. I am still struck by the vision of my mother digging a hole in the front yard of our last home on Summit Place. I can picture her in cute Capri’s and handmade jewelry, with a statue in one hand and a spade in the other, and I am overcome with giggles.

I shouldn’t have been so shocked, though; real estate’s a game of chance. If you deal with it on a regular basis and don’t have a lucky charm, you’re probably in the minority. Even though I tend to think that I take after my father in my sense of practicality, I have to admit, a bit of my mother’s superstitious nature has definitely reared its ugly head lately. With my first transaction, we had an offer on the house we were selling within days of putting it on the market. We agreed to terms and signed the contract. The next morning, just before the deal was to go into escrow, the buyers changed their minds. It was really too close to the freeway for them, they told us. We put the house back on the market and crossed our fingers. It was a full week before we received any more offers, and by that point I had bitten my nails to the quick and my stomach turned to knots habitually every time my cell phone rang. When we finally completed a second contract I spent days knocking on every surface of wood I could find every time someone asked me how the the deal was going and I answered, “We’re in escrow…” It seemed almost too good to be true. I learned the lesson early that a real estate deal is like a house of cards: one wrong move and the whole thing comes down.

So my point is, I guess burying St. Joseph can’t hurt your property values….

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