All modesty aside, I consider myself a reasonably intelligent woman. I'm well-educated, and a lover of science and logic. I live happily in an evidence-based world. Yet there I was last night, terrified that by even admitting in my blog that I had spent all day working on another offer for my clients, I would jinx it. I thought about the one we tried a couple of weeks ago, and how badly it failed. (Okay, it was a very risky lowball offer, and that is why it went down in flames. But still. I wished I hadn't said anything about it at all.) I wanted to do all kinds of superstitious dances to make this offer work, kind of like how I've worn my "lucky earrings" watching every single CU game this year, except for the loss to USC, when I put them on at halftime, and they played better, but it was too late by then. I didn't care if I looked stupid. I just wanted to win. Turns out, what I did in addition to writing one of my best offers to date was spend a lot of time on the phone with the listing agent, and THAT, folks, was my key to success. As soon as I gave him a heads up voice mail that an offer was coming, he called me back, and asked whether my buyers had to sell their own house first. After three people in three days asked to make contingent offers, the fact that we were coming in clean with no contingencies put us in the front of the line. There were dozens of little details that kept making it better and better, and once I submitted our official paperwork at 08:30 this morning, we were sliding smooth as a curling stone, right into the target. Less than three hours later, we were under contract. When I first looked at the pictures of this house online, I thought that there was no way my buyers were going to go for it. Boy, was I wrong. The moment we walked in the door, I knew this was a good house. I tried to play it calm, but inside, I was saying, "PICK THIS ONE!!" I was so happy that they did.
We still have to make it through inspection, which is where my last contract fell apart. But maybe I shouldn't mention that part. Shall I knock on wood? I already know one big, scary defect that has to be evaluated. I will not be present for the inspection, but you can bet I'll be home thinking happy thoughts, and maybe lighting candles to chase away my doubts.
Colorado has been warm and dry for far too long this year. We went months with only trace amounts of rain, and either tied or beat latest first snowfall records all up and down the front range. The report was for a high well above freezing this morning, with drizzly rain for hours, and then a tenth of an inch of snow by evening. Instead, around noon the first tiny specks of snow showed up, first down in Denver, then reported by my friends in Arvada and Boulder, and after an agonizing wait, they made it over my house. Not only did we get a dusting, we got several periods of huge, fluffy flakes coming down by the bucketload. Not a blizzard, no. But a solid first effort. I took photos when it first started to collect around Smith Park West, and then again out the back a couple hours later, when it got serious. In the middle of the afternoon, as I drove in soggy, wet snow between lunch and a matinee movie (FTR, Arrival was as good as they say), I mused aloud, "Am I giddy because I finally got another contract, or is it because it was finally overcast and gloomy all day like I like?" I don't know or care which made me feel happier. They both were welcome after long droughts.
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