My realtor called me Saturday to remind me that my listing expires today. He said he'd be in the area last night and would either bring the renewal paperwork or pick up the signs, depending on what I decided.
I thought about it for a while.
It seems that during the last six months, my house has gone from being reasonably priced to being one of the most expensive houses in the neighborhood without ever having changed the asking price. Not a good prospect for a sale. So I decided to let the listing expire, rather than drop the price and keep hoping each day that maybe--just maybe--someone would come to look at it. Daily disappointment wears on you after a while.
The realtor came last night, got his signs out of the front window, detached the lockbox from the doorknob, and removed the curbside sign. He commisserated with me over the precipitous drop in house prices in San Diego County and then took his leave.
I'm more at ease, now that I don't have to get the house looking absolutely perfect every time I go somewhere. No more having to hide my laptop and books behind the throw pillow on the couch when I need to run to the grocery store. No more having to get every single mug and spoon into the dishwasher and wipe down the countertops again for good measure when I leave for church. No more having to make sure the miniblinds are open and the deadbolts are unbolted and the mail is shoved under the perfectly made bed before I go looking for a job.
No, it's going to be easier and quicker to get out of the house now. And even though I'm still getting used to the idea of allowing a lived-in look, I'm starting to like the thought of staying put for a while. On purpose.