Seven Open Houses on Sunday and a Flesh Fly
You might wonder what seven open houses on Sunday and a flesh fly have in common with each other. Despite the fact that I am a bit of a troublemaker, an instigator, somewhat rogue at times. I possess a fairly dry sense of humor. However, I won’t keep you in suspense. That flesh fly is sitting on a yellow pad of my hand-scribbled notes about seven open houses, which rests on my coffee table on my lanai in Hawaii. Now, if you want to know what a flesh fly is, that is an interesting story, simply because it’s so creepy and dark.
Maybe you know all about a flesh fly. If so, you can skip this part. I never heard of a flesh fly before, until I spotted it land on my legal pad. Had to take a picture. But you know me, I can’t post a photo of something if I can’t identify it. When I figured out it was a flesh fly, at first blush I thought it was the color of flesh. Unlike the beige-colored crayons of my childhood. Because flesh comes in many colors. Or, maybe flesh had some other meaning. Nope, it did not originate from the city of Flesh in Wisconsin. It is exactly what the name implies. A flesh fly eats rotting flesh. Which is positively revolting and why I find it fascinating.
Apparently, forensic teams can tell how long a body has been dead by studying the flesh flies nibbling on it. The flies lay live maggots on the flesh, not eggs. Which means experts can predict the time of death by studying the growth stages of the flesh flies. Flesh flies live all over the country, and in Hawaii, too. Now you know a fun new fact you can share at dinner parties.
I shared a horrific story of a series of events, each more horrific than the last, to a dinner party group of Christian friends earlier in the week. Somebody mentioned hospice, and I quipped: I have an interesting hospice story. Everybody gathered in a circle. I could see by the expressions on their faces, they were not intrigued nor amused as my lips began to move. Eyes wide. Faces alarmed. Wrong group for this story. I’m sure they wondered where I was going with it. I quickly gave it an upbeat ending about divine human spirit and the triumph of strength under duress.
Then, my husband shared a story with me yesterday about a friend whose father was in a German Nazi camp. We had no idea of her family’s tragic past. Her father survived, but her uncle was raped by a drunken Nazi who, upset at her uncle’s resistance, split the guy’s head open. OMG! The stuff you do not know about people! Again, not a story to relate at a dinner party with my older Christian friends. Know your audience.
However, the attitude from my audience of Sacramento buyers seems to be changing. Surprisingly, though, out of my seven very busy open houses on Sunday, none produced an immediate buyer. This is unusual. It seems that listings are taking 10 to 21 days to sell now instead of 4 to 7 days. Simple observation: the pace seems more relaxed, not as frenzied. Still nothing to whine nor complain about. Definitely still a Sacramento seller’s market with good demand. Listing agents just get spoiled.
I often see a broad spectrum of activity. Primarily, because my listings in the greater Sacramento area cross a broad range of values, from $175,000 to $1.2 million. And almost all of them were open yesterday on Sunday.
Listen to some of these open house comments, though. Some buyers complained that they did not like the basement of a high-water bungalow in Midtown. Well, the basement is for storage. I feel like locking all the doors to the basement and telling them they can’t go down there. The basement square footage is not included in the listing. The living quarters of this 1910 home are beautiful. Why are buyers obsessing over the storage area? Stay out of the basement, you guys. Geez.
Other buyers toured the only home for sale at Lake Alhambra Estates in Davis. People loved the four-season room. Others disliked the four-season room. Loved it. Hated it. Loved it. Hated it. No consensus whatsoever. Loved the dark granite, hated the dark granite. Which tells us there is indeed a home for every buyer.
My foreclosure listing in East Sacramento drew a good crowd but nobody whipped out a checkbook, yet. We got a few nibbles, though. Many of the open house guests complained that the house was not a duplex. Why can’t they enjoy the house for its spaciousness, beautifully remodeled upgrades and low sales price? Why must they want to turn it into a duplex?
This is why I rely on trained open house professionals at Lyon Real Estate and my team members to interact with potential buyers and lookie loos at an open house. Because, left to my own devices, I might strangle them. And I won’t get away with the murder because of fresh flies. It’s a good thing my niche is seller representation. Some of my sellers text me three times a day to ask if I’ve sold their home yet, and that’s OK. Yeah, I can deal with that. Hey, we all have our quirks.
As long as there are no flesh flies at any of my open houses, I’m a happy camper.