The house is getting sold (actually it's a short sale) and I thought I was prepared for it. I'd been through this with Mr. Bill and his house. That thing stayed on the market FOREVER!
Short sales are... different.
I now work nights, so I sleep during the day. I missed the insanity for the most part the first few days due to this. Apparently while I was asleep, the circus came to town and toured my house. My roommates took the brunt of the group, dealing with the roving hordes as they wound their way through our house.
Like I said, I was asleep (or at least trying to) for most of this. I woke up to find my roommates exhausted, and a sign on the door to my room reading "Please do not open, someone is asleep".
Apparently someone decided to open my door and poke their head inside even after being told not to. Only my roommates saved me from the worst way to wake up ever. I started locking my room when I went to sleep.
Next offense would come during the week, when a particularly obnoxious Real Estate Agent started calling the house at 8:30 am.
I tried ignoring the calls, until 10:30am when I heard a knock on the door, and a rather insistent doorbell mashing. I silently willed them to go away.
Then I heard a key in the door and in a panic jumped up and put my robe on only to have the Realtor walk in, clients in tow.
I was flabbergasted, only able to show my ire on the intrusion by pointing to the sign on my door. The Realtor looked at the sign and myself and in a huff proclaimed "Well, no one was returning my calls."
As if that's a valid excuse for trespassing (which it is if they don't get permission from the tenants to enter the home.) I closed my room door, shaking with anger and fear. I had no safety left in my own home. Anyone could get in at any time. I started to panic.
The Realtor left maybe a minute or two later, his clients clearly unimpressed with the house.
I watched them leave from the front window. I turned the blinds and sat on the couch. The next time the phone rang I jumped up to get it, fearful of a repeat performance. The rest of the calls that day were for reasonable hours, in the evening. I scheduled people to come see the house, but missed the second and third horde that descended upon us.
I don't know if this helps or not, but imagine that someone calls you around 9pm, just as you are going to bed. They continue to call you for about a half hour. Just before midnight they open your door and tour your house, bringing others with them. That is effectively what they did to me.
Luckily I'm not the only one who's had enough of this. Seth (one of my roommates) had to actually deal with all those people in the evening (I ended up passing out around 1:30 pm with the help of a glass of wine.) These prospective buyers have been to the house every day from Saturday through Monday, for up to 6 hours straight (4 on Monday from 4-7:30pm).
The only respite from this assault has been recently, and only due to the booking agents personal tragedy (death in the family.) Otherwise there would STILL be people coming through.
The count of people that have seen the house as of Sunday, was 60 groups.
60. groups. by Sunday. That's two days.
I'm losing it personally. I have to have some personal space that is sacred. Someplace I can call mine. That I can call home. I have been doing abysmally in school, and my home life has been atrocious. On every front I am being assaulted by responsibilities, lack of money, necessities that are being neglected, personal liberties being restricted, sanity that is eroding, confidence that is wafer thin, motivation in retrograde and I am SERIOUSLY wishing not to be alive anymore.
Not that I'm feeling like a razors a great friend to have, or that pills look particularly tasty right now. I'm just feeling like I wouldn't protest too harshly if I have a near death experience. Like if I was needing to fight for my life, such as in a car accident or something, I might not fight too much or at all. I kinda look forward to the oblivion that awaits my end. It's looking mighty inviting not to have to constantly struggle, or fight depression or deal with NEW anxieties that crop up.
I know my life and what I am going through is paltry compared to others across the world. I know that in perspective this would be nothing more than a mild hiccup to someone living through war and utter poverty. But for some reason I can't get over this. It's eating away at me. I am literally crumbling away, like a sandcastle in the rising tide.
Each little wave is taking my foundation out from under me.