The alternator on the Suburban gave up as we topped out the Big Scary-Ass Bridge. (We knew it was coming, but were hoping to ignore it until payday.) So when we met with her, we explained that we were running only on battery power and would not be able to view all three homes she had lined up for us to see.
Her: (biting her lower lip and furrowing her brow) Hmmm... Welllll, hmmmm, let's see.
I braced myself.
Zorak started to chuckle.
I slapped his knee.
He slapped my knee.
We engaged in a silly knee-slapping war while she sat there, contemplating.
Her: (perking up visibly) OK, well, if we can only see two, *exhale* then we need to see the best two on the list.
Can you see it all from where you're sitting? It's not in slow-motion, but in full-out 1980's John Cusack self-deprication mode...
*bang, bang, bang*, my head against the dashboard.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Oh, the HUMANITY!!!
There, feel better? That's what I did- in my head. But on the outside, I turned to Zorak for moral support, for him to take the lead.
He ignored me and pretended to tap the gauges, still chuckling. (He saw that coming, didn't he?)
ONCE MORE, from the top. Everybody, on the count of three, say it with me!
the. one. we. requested. is. the. one. for. us. to. see.
First.
If necessary, it is the only one for us to see.
But do not, I repeat, DO NOT leave it off the list in favor of smaller, re-carpeted, more expensive boxes on the list.
She sighed. She grimaced. She compared the three printouts and grimaced some more. (I'm starting to think this is physically hurting her.) She acquiesced.
(Boy, was I ever glad, as we didn't have the juice left in the Suburban for my next plan of attack: chase her all over the County, screaming out the windows, "We want a shack! We want a shack!")
So, we looked at it.
It's infested with mice- they've eaten the bottom two inches off the cabinets.
Window seals are broken so the view, as seen through them, is a hazy dew-coated mirage.
The carpet looks like gypsies camped there over the winter.
One of the skylights leaks ferociously and seems to be fostering the always-fun-and-educational Chia-
Something very bad took place in the living room. As long as the police have been notified, I'm good with that.
The list goes on.
Except for being a little far from Zorak's work (which is so not an issue at this point!) it is, in a word, perfect!
Now, though, the key is to figure out how much Dude*, and others of his persuasion, are going to bid for it. We are hoping to find that sweet spot: below full-market fixed-up value, but more than it'd be worth for Dude to dump into it and hope to get a profit after he fixes it up. Anybody want to take a stab at the profit margin for something like this? We're open for suggestions!
After the first hour of us poking around the house and taking notes, the clouds parted and the angels sang. Our realtor actually said, "Yeah, you know, this wouldn't be bad." She stopped trying to usher us out the door to the next box. She quit trying to play down the ugliness (and beauty) of the structure's condition. For the first time, she seemed to be able to look at this house through our eyes and see what we've been trying to explain. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I'd give two thousand words for one good walk-through. I don't think she'll be trying to show us any more 900 square foot trailers in the "200K and up range" anymore.
HALLELUJAH!
So, yeah, that's it for now. Will have an update on Tuesday about a few things. Kinda nervous. Kinda happy. Quite thrilled to know we won't have to sell this realtor to the gypsies. It's all good.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*Dude*- pet name for the rude guy who walked in on the showing, wearing the orange down vest and $300 work boots with the toothpick protruding from the corner of his mouth, an "investor," who supposedly has an "in" with another realtor and knows the lingo, but didn't bother to admit to a breech of ettiquette until after he'd seen the entire structure. May his level leak and his angles be off by just enough to not be able to fudge them anymore.