Tuesday, August 05, 2008

That Lot Won't Sell

(With a tip o' the hat to the real estate investor I used to date who would say "That dog won't hunt" when someone thought she would sell a house for some outrageous amount of money.)

So I received an e-mail from my North Carolina realtor this morning. He gently explained to me that his office has 1500 listings for lots in the beautiful mountains in and around Jackson County, North Carolina. This year, fifteen lots have sold. I can't even imagine what it's like trying to make a living as a realtor with those numbers.

His office is accepting no additional listings until the sales pick up. I told him I had high hopes for the change of administration, and said if he had someone come in who was interested in a lot like mine, I'd sign a listing agreement with him in an instant.

So now I'm down to that lottery ticket, since Mother is far too stubborn to kick the bucket any time soon. (You all know I'm teasing about her demise, right? Put down your mouse. Stop forming that nastygram in your mind. It's okay. It's all tongue-in-cheek.)

I had an interesting conversation Sunday afternoon along Federal Street with my friend DW. She and I share later-in-life law degrees, but she has the license to go along with hers. She has a little more accumulated debt than I do, but all of hers is in education loans for her and her three children. The goodness of that is the interest rates are considerably lower than mine. The badness is that it's a helluva lot of money.

She said she figured she was going to be paying on that debt for the rest of her life. She expects to never be free of debt. To me that's a new concept. I'm totally obsessed with getting all these debts off my record, no matter what sacrificing I have to do to make that happen. (Okay, I'm not willing to sacrifice my October Broadway trip with PianoLady, but I am willing to sacrifice my dreamed-of vacation in 2009.)

I put one foot in front of the other. I deny myself a morning Panera muffie a day at a time. (Except for Fridays, when I usually splurge. After all, it's less than $1.25. That's not too bad, right. Better than my old tall skinny mocha at S'bux.) In twenty years we'll look back on this and laugh.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

4 comments:

Lucy said...

My sister has what seems to me a terrifying level of debt, but that just seems to be the way people live these days. We obsess over debt around here too, but we've never had to try and sell property. It's a frightening market right now.

Take the trip. Eat the once-a-week muffie. Neither of those is going to make things much worse, and living a life of deprivation isn't the answer either.

Oh, and no nastygrams here. I knew you were joking about mom.

Anonymous said...

My gram who came of age during the depression always said to us, "even though you don't have anything but your asses and elbows, you just can't lay down and die". Her point (which I realize may not be evident) being that even if you are broke, you have to take pleasure out of life. I really hope you get to go on the 2009 vacation AND the broadway trip.

Tyler said...

I know you're well-meaning, people, but stop the enabling. Mom, no vacations for you ;-)

Unknown said...

I agree with crseum - live life and enjoy and if you enjoy... then things will work out! Besides, I remember you telling me you really want to keep that other property! I think it's where we should all meet for those margaritas and mojitos. Do you notice a theme here? I keep pushing for the cocktail party!