Capital Homes

Type-A Stops to Smell the Roses!

I’m starting every day of my vacation with a walk from my beach house into the little town of Chatham.

OK, Pat! Stop right there! You are giving the impression that you are starting the day with a brisk walk so you can inhale the fresh, sea air and get some exercise when, in fact, you can’t get cell phone reception at the beach and you can in town! You are really sneaking off to check voice mail and return phone calls.

Still, a by-product of the walk was a chance to see the beautiful gardens and, yes, I stopped to smell the roses. But oh – my – gosh! There was not a rose along the several mile walk that had a scent! What’s happening!

I read somewhere that roses are being bred to be bug resistant. In the process, are they losing their wonderful smell? Is it too late for me, or for you other Type-A’s to stop and smell the roses?

Maybe it just takes more stops to smell more roses than it used to get one great whiff!

Buy High? Sell Low? Oh! No!

During the last 10 or so years, representing buyers hasn't been easy in my home town of Washington, DC. Prices skyrocketed. There were nasty, bloody bidding wars with dozens of participants. It got so crazy that our local Association of Realtors even added a "Price Escalation Addendum" to our library of boilerplate forms. I can remember feeling elated whenever there were only three or four competitors at any given contract presentation instead of 30 or 40.

So, until recently, to buy a house or condo in our nation's capital, you had to

* Be willing to give the sellers way more than their asking price;
* Pay hundreds of dollars for a home inspection before submitting your offer, or buy the place without the benefit of a home inspection (and a lot of these houses were really old);
* Give the sellers an earnest money deposit of at least 10 percent of the asking price;
* Forget about any contingency giving you any kind of out, like financing, appraisal, or lead paint assessments;
* Overlook stinky kitty litter, peeling plaster with layers of lead paint, kitchens with avocado green counter tops (no, not the granite type) and harvest gold appliances, and bathrooms that looked like athlete's foot about to happen;
* Deal with it when you woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night shouting, "What were we THINKING?"
* Accept that getting out of the deal was impossible because you waived every contingency that might provide a safety net, unless you were willing to forfeit that huge earnest money deposit.

So that is what "Buy High" looks like. And as the winning agent more often than not, I occasionally felt a little queasy. What if they call me in a year or two saying, "Pat! I just got Dream Job in Paris! You gotta sell this place for me!"

Yikes!

And Don't Let the Cat Out!

There is no more serious showing mishap than letting the seller's cat out of the house you are showing.  Or is there?

Anyone with an indoor cat knows that the little guy spends a lot of his life sitting in the window sill coveting the birds and squirrels on the other side of the glass pane.  And given the opportunity, most of them would scoot outside in a heartbeat to explore the world. And I think that most agents are very careful, especially when they see a sign on the front door or in the MLS description.

But here's a twist!

I was previewing a big, really pretty house.  It had been staged down to the clothes hanging in the closet.  If anyone lived there, they were total compulsives - the types who channel Martha Stewart. 

As I opened the front door to leave, I felt something brush against my leg.  No I hadn't let the cat out.  I let the cat IN!

Yikes!

So were these anal retentive neat freaks cat people?  I don't think so.

There was no tell tale litter box, certainly not that I'd noticed.  There were no cat hairs on the upholstery.  I didn't see a bag of cat chow or a food or water dish.   So, I went back inside, checked again for signs that the cat might live there and found none.  So I wound up chasing the little beast up and down three flights of stairs and finally grabbing it and carrying it outside, squirming and scratching the whole way.

Now, I've had a few listings that came with neighbors' cats who lurked around the front porch.  It never occurred to me to post a sign on the front door that reads "Don't let the cat in!" But I think I'm going to start!

Lead Paint Dust is Really Evil Stuff

I live in "This Old House". Almost all of the houses I sell are very old houses. And it follows that mine, and probably yours if it was built before about 1978, has lead paint somewhere under coats of more benign paint or wallpaper.

Why am I thinking about his now?

My house is being torn up for new bathrooms and central air conditioning. During the demo stage, the crew gave me a mask and suggested that I wear it, at least until dust settled and they could vacuum it up.

The Renovation Diaries: Week 1

I will never again, as long as I live, take running water in my home for granted.

Since a pipe buried under my bathroom floor burst late April, I have been without running water to the bathrooms on the second floor of my house.  For each flush, I had to fill two or three empty plastic kitty litter containers from the kitchen sink, lug them upstairs, and empty them into the toilet tank.  Or, I could go down to the finished basement where there is a full bath to use the john and take showers. 

But I’d rather take a bath!  Forget it.  As close as I get is the whirlpool at my gym, and they won’t let me shave my legs there.

TGIF!

Friday, I had a settlement. For real estate agents, settlements are a good thing. They mean that, among other things, we got through the transaction, resolved all the issues that inevitably arise, learned something, and helped the buyers and sellers move on to happy lives in new homes.

That's what happened on Friday.

This was one of the most challenging transactions of my long career. It involved a beautiful turn-of-the-century Victorian bayfront house, some dear friends who were buying it, really nice sellers, and dedicated DC government employees.

And like most of my transactions, my clients (the buyers) included a lawyer. The seller was a "for sale by owner" who was also a lawyer. She had purchased it from a lawyer, and the basement apartment (the sourse of the complications) was rented out to two young lawyers who conveyed.

When things go awry under these circumstances, it can be a real estate agent's worst nightmare!

Happy 4th of July!

A little while ago, I went out to get something out of my car's trunk. On this day when we celebrate our break from England - and it was, um, taxation without representation that was the major issue - I noticed my District of Columbia license plates which read - you guessed it!

"Taxation Without Representation"

So, for those of you around the country who may be reading this, please remember your friends in the colony of Washington, DC who cannot write their senator or congressman when they are pissed about something. We don't have one!

But we do get fantastic fireworks, which I am off to watch in a few hours!

Me And My Crackberry

About six months ago, I finally bought a Blackberry. And what they say is true. It is highly, highly addictive.

The cell phone aspect is no worse than any phone. It rings. I pick it up. Or not.

But there’s more!

With it, I can check my email and send out replies pretty much anytime, anywhere except maybe on an airplane. And, I can check stuff on the Internet – like how many blog hits I’m getting or what new listings have come on the market. OK, the thumbs thing is a little awkward, but I’m getting pretty good with the keyboard.

But here’s the thing.

I was in a car the other day, and while my brother (he was driving) was trying to hold a conversation, I was emailing a colleague who asked for feedback on a listing. He was a little miffed.

Later at dinner with friends, the little bzzzz went off (which, of course, I could hear since the little techo miracle was sitting on the table next to the salad fork) and I picked it up to check out a new message. It might have been awkward except that my friends, at least as type-A as I am, had their Blackberries close at hand and would have done the same thing if one of theirs had buzzed.

All I can say is thank God it doesn’t include a version of Tetris! Then, I’d have to check into rehab for sure!