My house is still a home

Alfred Biddlecomb
Published: July 9, 2008

I put my house on the market recently.

For three months I was holding my own. Now, after eight open houses, dozens of viewings, three offers and one pending (but never ratified) contract, I find myself in a figure-four leglock after being body
slammed by the bear market I’ve been wrestling since April.

I knew the business of selling our home would be tough. Let’s face it, we own a 20-year-old town house in Northern Virginia. The only problem is that thousands of other residents own a home that looks
just like ours — thousands more are owned by the bank.

That’s brutal.

With two pre-school kids and a neighborhood that’s seen its better days, my wife and I decided to give it a go. This would be different, we figured. We had less than nine years left on our 15-year
mortgage, a home full of equity and a long line of credit at The Home Depot.

We viewed this challenge like an episode of A&E’s “Flip This House,” where enterprising people purchase a dump of a house, fix it up before selling it at a profit. Granted our home was by no means a
dump, but it is a 20-year-old-town house in Northern Virginia — you do the math.

I swear you could hear “The A-Team” theme music playing in the background as we quickly began ripping out carpet, hanging Sheetrock, installing vanity sinks and painting everything that didn’t move.
Contractors actually did most of this work, but writing the checks was an exhausting process that was draining on my home equity line of credit.

Our 20-year-old Northern Virginia town house looked like a Belmont Bay golf course condo when we took photos for the real estate brochure on April 1 (Omen perhaps). We had all the necessary
particulars — and real estate jargon — in the text as well.

“Granite counter tops, stainless steal appliances, new carpet and ceramic tile throughout, oversized upper and ground-level decks, new AC/heat pump, remodeled master bedroom and bath, finished walk-
out basement with full bath, and landscaped backyard garden [black dachshund with Tuscan Beige spots does not convey].”

Then we waited . . . and waited . . . and waited some more.

The home was pristine during the first open house. The weather, however, was more suited for monsoon season.

We reduced the price from $329,000 to $318,000 after one month on the market. Business picked up and we got a few (slightly pathetic) offers.

Then on day 48, we got a deal that was a little less pathetic. They said $275,000 and we countered at $309,000. They came back with $290,000 and we reluctantly agreed since it’s a lot easier to buy
than sell these days. Just last year a similar home on our block sold for $365,000. That’s how far the market’s fallen.

Next was the home inspection — the homeowners version of “turn your head and cough.” Surprisingly, there were no major discrepancies. My heart sunk. “I may have to actually go through with this,” I
thought.

Next was the appraisal, which was needed for the buyers to secure bank financing at less than 10 percent down. We were asking $290,000 and the appraiser took a look at the house (so she says) and
looked at the neighborhood and appraised this 20-year-old Northern Virginia town house at $265,000. Dagger. Crash and burn. Deal killer. Game over.

All the upgrades, gallons of new paint, tons of tile and grout, blood, sweat, tears and cash couldn’t overcome one cold hard fact of Northern Virginia life — our neighbors.

I’m not talking about our neighbors who’ve never touched a lawn mower.

Nor do I speak of the neighbors in the town home that houses 14 people and a pit-bull.

In this case our home appraisal sank like a stone due to a couple of homeowners on our block who sold their 20-year-old Northern Virginia town houses for $265,000 and $220,000 respectively.

The “For Sale” sign will remain in our yard for at least another month since the neighborhood dogs have taken a liking to it.

Then we’ll be content to live in the dream home we thought some lucky buyer would enjoy. I’ve actually grown fond of my granite counter tops.

And since the local government values my home at $340,000 this year, I’ll be having a little talk with the tax man.

Alfred Biddlecomb is the former Opinion Page editor for the Potomac News and Manassas Journal Messenger.