Last night, we had a pair of realtors come to our house. My spouse had thought that perhaps we could just let them know that we could be tempted to sell, if they had a client who wanted something like our house. We don't want to sign a contract or actually put the house on the market, but if someone wants . He also hoped that if nothing else, we could get a sense of what the house might be worth.
Oh, and if that's not enough, we would want a seller who would take it as is and pay cash.
The realtors were very kind. They told us what we'd need to do to get the house ready to put on the market.
We won't be putting it on the market anytime soon--too much to do.
One realtor loved the cottage and playfully scolded us for using it only for storage. We could be making so much money with Air Bnb! On and on he went.
Sure, sure we could. Maybe I could give up an hour or two of sleep--because frankly, between my fulltime administrator job and my part-time online teaching, I don't see a lot of time to become an innkeeper.
My spouse, on the other hand, was filled with the idea of all the money we could make.
As I said to my spouse, "You don't like talking on the phone, you don't check your e-mails, you don't like dealing with government authorities, and you don't like most people. This doesn't seem like a good career move for you."
This morning, as I drove through the early morning light to get some ingredients for a quiche I'm taking to my quilt group, I had new appreciation for my neighborhood. It's hard to get a sold-comparables list because all of the houses are so different from each other. We still have some trees, despite the best efforts of hurricanes.
I don't want to sell my house. But I do fear that the rising sea wants it too.