Waiting With Baited Breath

I may vomit.

Clearly this whole economic crisis and alleged downturn in real estate sales is a big steaming pile of Rod Stewart albums.  How am I in a third bidding war? Where was this abundance of full price (and beyond) offers when we were selling our place?  My mellow has officially been harshed.

Obviously, our offer has not been accepted.  I really should have trusted my instinct and just peed on the house to mark my territory.  Damn, damn, double damn.

In Maplewood they have this horrible thing they call bidding your “highest and best.”  Basically if the seller receives multiple offers, they skip through the usual process of seeing if you’ll match or even bid higher than the other offer.  They just say lay it all on the table and guess.  You don’t get another chance to see how high the other bidder will go.  It’s actually worse than a bidding war in my opinion.  It’s actually worse than drinking a glass of warm orange juice and mayonnaise while watching Titanic.

So we’ve stretched as far as we can possibly stretch.  I’m pretty certain the house isn’t actually worth the offer we just put in.  However, it’s totally worth that to me.  When I think of this house, my eyes fill with little puffy cartoon hearts.  I slept like a baby last night dreaming of all the fantastic family gatherings and dinner parties and lazy Sundays this house could host.

Those people don’t love her as much as we do.  I’m just sure of it.  I mean, how could they?  I seriously doubt they offered their first born as a down payment.  Clearly they aren’t in it to win it.  And clearly they did not get the memo – this is my house.

Plus they just have to be bad people.  They probably club seals and sell children and cheat on their taxes.  I bet they pave over grass so they don’t have to maintain and mow it.  They’re probably sitting on their mink covered settee watching Fox News and eating foie gras as I type this – secure in the knowledge that they have a shit ton more money than we do to snatch this house out of our hands.  Then they’ll bulldoze it down and build a torture chamber for handicapped puppies.  It’s really better for the entire universe if we get this house instead of those people.

Sons of bitches I want this house.  But now, we wait.  And hyperventilate.  And maybe throw up a little in our mouths.


Was that good for you, too? Then click here and follow my Facebook page. Or even better, join the mailing list. Free pony with every subscription. Probably.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.