It’s a good townhouse. It served me well as a single woman finding her feet. My first big girl house. It welcomed Shelby wholeheartedly when he moved in, seeming to grow in size to neatly accommodate all his stuff. We entertained guests comfortably, we were conveniently located to work and theatre. But I was unhappy. It felt small. The cathedral ceilings and open floorplan did nothing to relieve my feelings of being cramped. I wanted a yard. I wanted my own walls. I wanted space. And then Hannah was coming and we needed more. But it is a good townhouse.
We decided to try holding onto it. Long term, it could be a place for Hannah if she decided to stay in the area for school, a way for us to recoup some of the expenses we put into it. We got it all brushed up and listed for rent. There was a lot of activity, but no real leads. We had one application put in but the renter (who seemed so promising) turned out to be real sketchy on the background check so we declined to move forward. We had a lot of folks say they were going to put in an application “it’s a nice place”, but no one else ever did. So we finally decided to cut our losses and list the place for sale.
An hour after it was listed, we had our first scheduled viewing. Before close of business, we had an offer on the table. That was Thursday.
We countered the offer on Friday morning but didn’t hear from the buyers the rest of the day. In the meantime, more viewings were scheduled. By the end of Friday, a second offer came through.
Are you kidding me? 6 months of trying to rent with no real interest and 2 offers to buy within 24 hours of being put on the market??
After a little back and forth and a few tense hours, we are officially under contract. If everything goes according to plan, the townhouse will be sold by the end of this month. From never ending mortgage payments to sold in 21 days.