From Parkville Missouri to KC: I’m This Close to Living in My Car
Okay, listen up ’cause I’m only gonna say this once before I lose what’s left of my mind. It’s Jessica, your friendly neighborhood realtor who’s about two houses away from a complete meltdown.
I Swear, This Market is Out to Get Me
So get this. Yesterday, I’m in Parkville, right? Showing this house that’s older than my grandma’s dentures. We pull up and I kid you not, there’s a line around the block. For a house with shag carpeting and a toilet that’s probably seen the Nixon administration. I mean, what in the Sam Hill is going on? And Sunset Hill? Oh honey, don’t even. Had this couple look at a shoebox masquerading as a starter home there. They see the price and the husband goes, “Jessica, darlin’, did you accidentally type an extra zero?” I wish, buddy. I really freakin’ wish.
The World’s Gone Topsy-Turvy, I Tell Ya
You wanna know what’s really cooking my goose? Areas I used to avoid like my ex at Walmart are suddenly the hot ticket. Take Roanoke. Last year, you couldn’t pay me to show a house there. Now? I’ve got folks offering to name their firstborn “Jessica” if I can get them in. It’s like I’m in the twilight zone or somethin’. And don’t get me started on Westport. When did “stumbling distance from the bar” become a selling point for soccer moms? I’m getting calls at 2 AM about school districts there. 2 AM! Like, don’t these people sleep?
A Little Advice (Take It or Leave It, I’m Too Tired to Care)
If you’re crazy enough to buy in this nuthouse, here’s my two cents. Get your money lined up faster than I can down a cup of QuikTrip coffee. Be ready to pounce on anything with four walls and a roof. Had a client lose out ’cause they wanted to “think about it overnight.” Honey, in this market, you don’t have overnight. And for the love of all that’s holy, lower your standards. That green bathtub? It’s “vintage.” The weird smell? It’s “character.” Heck, even Quality Hill is looking good these days. And if you’d told me I’d say that a year ago, I’d have laughed you outta the room. Look, I’m running on fumes and false hope at this point. This market’s got me stress-eating gas station taquitos at 3 AM and seriously considering a career change. Maybe something less stressful. Like alligator wrestling. If you need me, I’ll be the one in the wrinkled blazer, babbling to myself in the Costco parking lot. Probably crying into a slice of pizza. Or laughing maniacally. These days, it’s a real toss-up. Hang in there, Missouri. We’re all losing our minds together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with a bottle of wine and my pillow. Gonna scream into one and drink the other. I’ll let you guess which is which.
