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This is serious, folks. I am about to take a big plunge into the not-very-well-known. I take it back–I’m not about to… I already have leapt into the yawning hole called Real Estate. Of course I’ve been party to the purchase and sale of houses before, but never by myself. Never have I not had someone else to blame if a wrong decision is made.

This is scary stuff, I’m telling you. And, just quietly, I’m having a ball. Well, sort of. I realise that the novelty hasn’t yet worn off, and by this time next week I shall be ready to punch somebody’s face in, but for now–this brief little window–I’m finding it a rather interesting experience.

Let me back up and start at the  beginning.  About three weeks ago I decided to move to the northwest of Tasmania. The decision hardened as I drove up to Wilmot to visit my son, Adam (of Badger’s TreeChange fame). While in Wilmot I consulted a friend who is a real estate agent in the area. She took me to look at five or six houses, but she needn’t have bothered. True to type, I naturally fell in love with the first one. None of the others stood a chance.

A couple days later, back home in Fossil Cove, I emailed her to say I would return to Wilmot the following weekend to Make an Offer, which I did. But more about that shortly. Meanwhile there was the small matter of selling my house, which I was gonna have to do before I could purchase My Dream Home. I had representatives from three agencies take a look and tell me what it was worth. They were mostly in agreement with each other and with me. Well, two of them were. The third one recommended I get a professional valuer.

The third guy, whom I shall call Michael because that’s his name, really hit the ground running. Even before he had the listing he provided me with the names of a valuer, a handyman, a gardener, and a person to do a floor plan. How could I not choose him? (Are you paying attention, any RE agents out there?

So I was on my way. Three days later my deck was being cleaned, ready for painting, the floor plan guy was drawing the floor plan, the valuer was casting a beady eye over every nook and cranny, and initial photos were taken. I, meanwhile, was starting to drool and talk to myself in unconnected syllables.  I lost track of what day it was, and found myself wondering if I was in the kitchen to get breakfast or dinner.

Gradually I got into the swing of things. I cleaned out my closet and took a carload of clothes to the Red Cross shop–all those fat clothes and skinny clothes I knew I would never wear again. I bought dozens of plants for the courtyard–and planted most of them before they died. The operative word is ‘most’…

I’ll cut to the chase. I’m sure you have a sense of what it’s been like at my house for the past couple of weeks. The result is that the house went onto the real estate websites on Wednesday and into the local Real Estate Guide yesterday. So it’s all happening.

Now back to the tale of my offer on the House of My Dreams. Backing up to last weekend, my offer was presented to the vendors Sunday morning, whereupon they came back with a counter offer. I countered with a counter-counter offer. Well, wouldn’t you know it–they declined my counter-counter offer. (Can you count the counters?) And that’s where it stands. I’ve said I won’t go higher, and added that if my house sells before theirs does I might come back with a cash offer, but it will be for less money. Am I cheeky, or what?

So, I’m now in Wilmot again to look at some more houses tomorrow. I think My Dream House may actually be in Penguin, a gorgeous little village right on the north coast. In the meantime, in case anyone is interested, my plot is for sale.                MM

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