CD27: AF, AF....Where Art Thou AF?

Returned from LA yesterday. I removed my mom's home from the market and gave the listing to another agent to market. I interviewed three agents: the first a novice, the second a fast-talking salesman sort, and the third a flashy "above the boulevard" sort that drove a mercedes and looked out of place in our ghetto neighborhood.

I went with the middle one: the salesman sort of agent. I've seen him a few times at open houses down in my mom's hometown. He talks to everyone that walks into his open houses, maybe a bit too much, but he doesn't let a single person leave without being tapped for whether they might be interested or not. He's also a neighborhood specialist and has another listing two streets over. I figure that having a second listing in the same neighborhood will mean that when buyers don't like the other house he has (ie, too expensive) he'll be sure to send them to our house.

We dropped the price $10,000 to $469,000. This is exactly what the shit hole across the street sold for in April. It makes me ill to see that our house, after $7000 in cleaning up, is now on the market for the same amount as that piece of crap across the street. It's just wrong. So wrong. It took me three trips to LA to get our house in decent shape, and now I question if it was all a waste of time and effort. Should I have just put my mom's house on the market last February while the market was still slightly warm, okay, maybe lukewarm? I wonder. Fucking hindsight.

I'm resentful that my mother couldn't listen to me and sell her house when I told her to. I'm the real estate broker in this household, but she can't hear me or listen to me. She sees me as her daughter, her teenage daughter that did irresponsible things many years ago. She can't fathom that I might know something that she doesn't. And it's costing her, and driving me insane. I am so happy to have wiped my hands clean from this. Let BG deal with her and her insane ideas on real estate. At least I know that he will be able to get through to her in a way that is impossible for me to do.

When I reiterate for the upteenth time how upset I am she retorts, "But I wasn't ready to sell last year!" and my reply to that is, "Was it worth $50,000 to wait? $70,000? It might actually be a $70,000 loss by the time we close this deal!" This is a woman that drives across town to save 2 cents a gallon on gas...but when it comes to market timing and the sale of her house, she pissed $50,000. It's almost as if she put her hand on her hip and snootily said, just to spite me, "I'll sell when I am good and damned ready and I don't care if I lose money." It wasn't as direct as that, but it feels as though it was. My mom might have a bit more than that in the bank, her life's savings. Yet she just pissed away an equal amount of money by not listening.

My closest childhood friend suggested today that my 89 year old mother might be on the verge of senility. My god. That is one scary thought.

Rant over.

Maybe this outburst is PMS? I always claim that I don't get PMS. Really, I don't. I don't get bitchy or cranky. AF just arrives.

And AF was due to arrive today and she's nowhere in sight.

I hear that the humira injections can throw one's cycles off a bit, and maybe that is the case. Great. Right before a FET my cycle is a bit whacked. To say that it makes me a bit nervous is an understatement.