Selling Out

The day comes when you decide to sell your place. It all seems so easy. Just call up one of those companies with their flashy signs and it's done. Oh my dear, you have just enlisted into a scary club. It is not easy, it is not without care. It's a pain in the place you can't name. Your life and your property are no longer what you thought was yours. You are taken over and told what to do and how to do it and when to do it. Your life is no longer in your hands, but in those of  Mr or Ms Real Estate Agent and nothing is real any more. The first step is to learn what you thought your place was worth was a mental aberration. The "market" looms and what you need to get in terms of money to buy your dream home is but a fairy tale apparently. Once the shock of reality hits home, the next step is the viewing of your treasure. The idea is to remove all encumbrances to what you thought was pretty nice so that the buyers will be "able to see themselves in your place". Huh? After hiding everything you thought was appealing and enticing, you are asked to go away while other people are traipsing through your personal space. You hope these characters poking into every corner of your life are not casing the joint. Then come the offers - if you are lucky - and these are depressing in that they are not your idea of worth. If you happen to like one and do a deal, along come the "subjects". Now if you think these are your loyal subjects kneeling at the altar of your lovely abode, think again. These "subjects" are stumbling blocks to the stepping stones in the buying of your home. Complaining gets you nowhere: a pat on the head and a jab in the side for your inability to understand what you have to do to bend under the yoke of real estateism if you want to sell, Baby. Your idea of a quick sale is fading rapidly and you feel intimidated and unsure if you want to go through these gates at all. (Your old place is looking better each day.) Buying and selling don't seem to jibe - ever. When you want out and they want in are two different planets. Money matters enter the scene and there are additions of costs - inspections, taxes, assessments, hook-ups, moving and storage, interim loans, mortgages and on and on. Your hair is now very white to match your complexion but it's too late. You are in it up to your neck. The realtor is king or queen and you are the peon. Just when you are ready to let it all go, you are told you can't anyway. You have a contract. Eventually,  the dust clears and you have packed up and moved or live in a cheap motel while you await getting into your new place but you just let it all happen helplessly and allow the tide take you where it will.  One day it will all be over and you will have the joy of unpacking the mountain of boxes and finding out that you have survived. Poorer but wiser, you are now wondering where you are when you wake up each morning. You're home. You earned it.