April 12, 2007
not a matter of life or death
When I was growing up, my dad would point out that something I was in a tizzy about was “not a matter of life or death.” And I would think, whatever, old man, you just don’t get it.
Of course, he did.
I’ve been on the phone all day today with my realtor, trying to work out some acceptable terms with the people who want to buy this house. They have made us a really good offer, but there were a few things that we were still hashing out, and when I had to say yay or nay to it, all on my own, I panicked a little bit, because it seemed so HUGE deciding about selling the house ALL BY MYSELF. Which I wasn’t really because Wade and I have talked and talked and talked about this, over the past couple of years and couple of weeks and all of last night and . . .
But still, I panicked. Because that’s what I do.
Wade was in a lunch meeting today, and had left his phone in the car. I find this insistence on NOT carrying his phone everywhere both endearing and irritating; I love that he’s not that guy who wears his Bluetooth to the library with the kids, as though at ANY MOMENT he might get The Call and will need to cut short an afternoon outing to go save the world, but I also find it incredibly frustrating that sometimes, when I need to ask a Really Important Question (like, will you stop at the beer store?) I get his voice mail.
Today, after my third (fourth?) conversation with our realtor, I called him twelve times in twenty minutes a couple of times and cursed him for going to a MEETING and leaving me to be in charge of the wheeling and dealing. When he got to his car and saw that he had missed my twenty calls, he called me right back and said, “What’s up?”
“Do you have five minutes?” I asked. “Because I need to tell you all of this at once before I totally freak out.”
“Sure,” he said, “go for it.”
So I started babbling about the offer and the counter offer and the counter COUNTER offer and the house and the money and the housing market and keeping the damn bathrooms clean and the stress and . . .
And when I was done, Wade said, “Take it. It’s a good offer.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said, “I’m sure. Take it. I feel good about it.”
Wade and I have been together for a long time; long enough that when I throw one of my hair brained ideas at him, he is able to tell me why he thinks I’m wrong in a way that is honest and kind and constructive. He is also able to give me confidence when he thinks I am right, to point out the pieces of any decision that are on target. All of this makes him a good balance to my crazy.
I felt better after I talked to him, but I was still waiting to hear from the realtor, and I was still waiting to feel the calm setting in. On the way to get Henry, there was a train stalled across the road; we came back a different way, only to find THAT way blocked as well. And across the train tracks, stuck in the stand-still traffic, was an ambulance, with the lights on, also stuck in traffic. And I wondered if someone in the ambulance was waiting to get to the hospital, or if there was someone down the road waiting for the ambulance to show up.
And I thought, it is a good offer. And it’s not a matter of life and death.
Posted by Susan @ 2:42 pm • Uncategorized
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April 12th, 2007 at 3:54 pm, Erin Says:
I had a similar (albeit less HUGE than buying a house) experience when I was buying our stove. I called Mike and explained what I’d found and how much it cost and he said “do what you think is right. you’ve done the research and I trust you.” ooookaaaay. I knew it was a good deal, but I was still freaked out about spending that much money without my husband by my side.
Good luck with the house buying.
April 12th, 2007 at 4:26 pm, Angela Says:
Congratulations on taking the offer! Such an exciting time.
April 12th, 2007 at 4:28 pm, Jack's Raging Mommy Says:
I remember a similar experience with my father as well.
Men just don’t understand hysterics like women
Good luck on the offer, I hope it all comes together smoothly and you don’t have to freak out anymore. Though it does make for good blogging…
April 12th, 2007 at 4:51 pm, crazedparent Says:
wonderful story. it’s almost a bittersweet relief when a moment like that happens and you can take two seconds to sigh and go, “it’s all gonna work out.”
congrats. i know the feeling well. (especially about the part where the cell phone being unavailable just when you have really important decisions to make!).
April 12th, 2007 at 5:45 pm, elise Says:
Such good advice, with the life and death thing. Really, really good.
April 12th, 2007 at 5:54 pm, MamaChristy Says:
Congrats! You will be SO glad to be able to not wipe the counters down a million times a day so the house is ready to show at any moment.
When I wasn in college, a nice girl I had gone to school for a year before she graduated with came back to talk to us about what it was like working in advertising. She said “When things get really stressful and you want to cry and tear your hair out and quit, we just remind ourselves that it’s just advertising. We aren’t saving babies. No one will live or die because of the things we do.” I took that to heart and was ablew to put my entire working life into perspective with that advice.
April 12th, 2007 at 7:10 pm, chris Says:
Yup, it all works out in the end.
Congrats on the house offer.
April 13th, 2007 at 3:44 am, Irene Says:
Congrats! Now PLEASE sell MY house!
April 13th, 2007 at 9:01 am, Lauren Says:
I read your blog regularly and have been enjoying your posts about trying to sell the house. Looks like you’ve almost made it! I know it’s totally stressful buying and selling. Yuck, I don’t look forward to doing it again in the next few years. I hope this all works out–it sounds like it has!
And I have to say that my husband is a good balance to my crazy, as well. I can just see myself doing the same thing you did–”I have to tell you all this before I have a meltdown!” and having my husband say, “You did great, take the offer.” Isn’t it comforting to be with someone who fits you so well?
April 13th, 2007 at 11:23 am, Anonymous Says:
I bought a house, by myself, in my mid-20’s…. a very gut-level decision…. and one my family tortured me about endlessly…. then, almost 3 years ago we bought our “dream home” (ok, yes, it is laughable to use that term to describe a 2 bedroom, 1 bath house built in 1897 with wavy floors & floral linoleum) when it magically came on the market. I’m the, um, responsible one, in our relationship so I handled almost all of the wheeling and dealing and did most of it when we sold our first house about a year later….making a tidy profit. 2.5 years later…. our current house, flowery linoleum and all, is valued at almost $150k more than we paid for it…. The moral of the story… go ahead and trust your gut… you know more than you think.
Homestead
(who wishes her gut would make her google account let her post as herself….)
whomadethismess.blogspot.com
April 13th, 2007 at 11:33 am, Karianna Says:
OMG. I would freak out too. Even if I know the answer, I want back up.
GIMME THE BACK UP!
You are right that it isn’t life or death… but it certainly feels that way in the heat of the moment!
Good luck with the rest of the deal…
April 13th, 2007 at 12:04 pm, The Daring One Says:
Oh so nice to have wonderful to have a partner for reassurance. This is happy news indeed.
April 13th, 2007 at 12:12 pm, pixie sticks Says:
Even though we all know rationally that real estate isn’t a matter of life and death, it sure as hell feels like it a lot of the time. We decided early on in our real estate transaction(s) to take turns freaking out. And it helped. That, and all the wine.
April 13th, 2007 at 12:28 pm, Susan Says:
Oh Pixie Sticks, thank GOD for the wine.
April 13th, 2007 at 1:28 pm, Jessica Says:
Congrats on the whole real estate experience. Having just wrapped up my own, I know the feeling.
Except our closing got crazy, and four days after everything was SUPPOSED to be final and we were already moved in, our realtor called. He had 90 minutes to get one more paper signed and to the title company or we’d have to redo everything, and pay more money. Of course, I was in Tulsa (more than 90 minutes away) and I was calling my husband like crazy. He was mowing the lawn (can’t believe he couldn’t fit a phone into gym shorts) and not answering.
Our realtor finally drove to our house, dragged my husband out of the backyard and got the papers signed. Guess he learned his lesson about not answering the phone!
At the end of the day, we have a lovely new home. Can’t wait to see more of yours!
April 13th, 2007 at 3:08 pm, Aurora Says:
This is a really wonderful post. Thank you!
April 13th, 2007 at 8:45 pm, Suburban Turmoil Says:
Nice ending.
April 15th, 2007 at 2:06 pm, rachel Says:
*phew* hope everything goes as expected!
And I think tizzies are totally allowed - even if it isn’t life or death. But ambulances & hearses do make you think, don’t they?