I have a restless-rootless feeling. I’ve been having anxious repetitive dreams that I’m lost and searching for my home. I’ve had this feeling and these dreams since I first came to sunny California three years ago.
I talk to people about this feeling. I’m told I’m not the only one. Many Californians are descendents of dust bowl refugees at the end of long desperate roads. But perhaps this anxious-rootless feeling is a contagion spread by the heat and BIG drought of climate change.
I like it here. But I can’t seem to translate our California life into home. It doesn’t seem like a place to count on. There’s not enough water to support 38 million people and/or thousands of square miles of agriculture.
This narrow strip of Pacific coastline is famous for its cold summer fog bank. But this summer the sun is too hot and the sky too blue. We wear wide-brimmed hats and sunglasses outside from dawn till dark.
Although the bank-owned weather wizards have announced that a long wet winter is on the way to save us, I’m skeptical. The history of this land is one of thousand-year droughts. And now our earth is wrapped in an ever-thickening carbon dioxide heat blanket generated by burning West Virginia to produce “clean” electricity and to produce even more wealth for the uber-wealthy.
There are whispers and rumors on the bank-owned internet that real estate markets in other countries are collapsing. But these same interests continue to announce “always-up!” bubble froth in the Land of the Free.
“Come one, come all. OUR homes are STILL good INVESTMENTS for cash-carrying capitalists fleeing economic collapse elsewhere in the world!”
I’ve read that there are even real estate bidding wars in small bank-owned towns in the middle of nowhere with no jobs and no hope like Hickville Ohio, Sweat Alabama and Butt-freeze Montana.
Every dead-end mined-out briar-stricken nowhere is having a real estate explosion because they’re SPECIAL and because there’s no more land being made in their SPECIAL locale. Yes, Lizard Guano Arizona and Ocean Peak Colorado each have SPECIAL speculative real estate bubbles in their own SPECIAL ways.
“The rising tide floats all boats!” (A realtor told me this with a straight face. It was his explanation of the alleged housing bubble in our area.)
I asked about a trailer at an “open house” yesterday. It was listed as pending. I asked the realtor why there was an open house when the property was already sold. She answered by suggesting we make a back-up offer on it.
Then her voice got all rat-squeaky. She told us we could have a bidding war. She said she was sure that, with enough cash, we could displace the offer they’d already accepted.
“I don’t ‘do’ bidding wars,” I said.
“The principal of the thing?” she asked.
“I’m in no hurry,” I told her. “Prices will be lower this winter.”
At least this realtor knew the word “principal”. She has a day job as a school teacher.
While chatting us up, she’d also mentioned that she hasn’t taken a vacation in years because she’s still making payments on long-past summer fun. She’s bank-owned as well.
Even though her business card says she specializes in LUXURY HOMES, I can’t fathom taking financial advice from her. There is a saying that Wall Street is the only place where people arrive in chauffeured limos to get investment advice from people who ride the bus to work. Welcome to the world of high-ticket real-estate sales where over-leveraged school teachers try to make ends meet by pushing bidding wars on old house trailers.
If the trailer is already sold, why should I bind up my morals and resources by making a bid? They don’t need me to help pump a customer for more money. I know someone who paid $17,000 over the full cash asking price on a property. Her favorite realtor buddy told her there were other bidders that didn’t exist.
Even if I swallowed a vat of grape-flavored drink, I can’t believe a hard-used ten-year-old trailer made by a manufacturer who went out of business over reliability issues that’s situated in a crowded and treeless trailer park in drought-ridden nowhere California miles from the beach is special enough to have a “bidding war”. Not at $289,000. Not even at $60,000. Nope. Credulity stops here.
This trailer last sold only four months ago for $281,500. I’ve been told that the owner before that kept it for maybe a year. But I can’t find sales information to document this.
I know of three other similar trailers for sale in this park plus I saw two brand new units being installed. There’s not a trailer shortage this week.
Each time I express interest in buying any property, I’m told they will be accepting offers several days later. I’m nudged and winked to offer well-over the asking price if I REALLY want it. The implication is that people are lining up around the block panting after whatever end-stage termite mound, sagging trailer or wall-punched condo we’re considering.
Yesterday’s dishonest behavior filled my belly with fresh ire about realtors baiting people into unnecessary bidding wars for already over-priced dumps. Her stink put me off home shopping yet again.
I would rather continue to be a renter (a despised sub-category of humanity in our area) or “go camper” (a less-despicable form of roaming homelessness) than be manipulated and ripped-off by bank-owned realtors.
But maybe I’m the only person who feels this way.
And if you imagine you’ve found your special realtor chum, then you’re well on your way to having your pockets picked cleaned and being hung out to dry.
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Thanks for reading.