That Old House

The fact that I now live ten miles away from the United States' biggest and most profitable casino belies the fact that gambling makes me twitch. I hate the temporary uncertainty and the long-term losses. I hate seeing half of our state's elderly population hooked up to the slots via Wampum cards on lanyards. I hate the rank air. I do like the free drinks, but I have to imbibe vast amounts before I can convince myself that all those bourbon and cokes negate the overall soul-sucking nature of the business.

Unfortunately, there's more than one way to gamble, and we've been doing it for over a year and a half in the real estate market. We've been paying two mortgages since we relocated in July. As our new home thrives around our growing family, our original place sits forlorn on its little hill overlooking the Interstate, waiting for a buyer.

Today I got to thinking about the offers we didn't take. The price we didn't lower quickly enough. The renters that almost burned it down. Everything related to the sale of that house has been a roll of the dice. It could be sold by now if a different number had come up on just one of those tosses.

Or it could have disappeared. One of the offers early on came from a neighbor who made his intentions clear--he wanted the property for its commerically zoned land, not for the house. He would have demolished the 200 year old Cape in favor of the expansion of his business. We decided we couldn't be complicit in the destruction of an antique treasure and told him, in no uncertain terms, "no."

I'm still glad we rejected his offer (which seemed a tad low at the time, but looks higher and higher in hindsight), though there's a sting each time our bank account bleeds out the next mortgage payment.  If we didn't care so much about history, we'd have a much easier time funding the present. But so it goes. Another one of life's little lessons.

One of the most expensive locations in real estate? The moral high ground.

Cross-posted at 24/7.

Comments

[Kate]

Ugh. Just, ugh. I have a deep, unexpressed (before now) fear of being unable to sell our house in NH when we're ready to move to MA. The difference is, our house has ZERO historical value and is not in a commercially viable area, so our souls are comparatively safe... the next owners may turn it into a meth den, but they won't be destroying any history when they blow it up.

[Fairly Odd Mother]

Ouch. The moral high ground is a nice place to be at time, but that hurts. Hope someone wins big at the slots and decides your home would be the perfect spot to settle.

[Judy Hansen]

It took us 4 years to sell our house, started at 449,000. Sold at 269,000. A realtor had to pretty much hit us over the head for us to realize we had to price it lower than the market to get it sold. It is done. No regrets. Now on with the next phase of our life. When it is right, it will happen.