Political Mama

It's been a long hiatus. I know you've been anxiously awaiting my return so here I am.

After three years of being told that selling my house would net me 10 billion dollars, there'd be bidding wars, and crazy fighting to buy in, I'm waiting for close to three months with no offers. It's a shame really. It's a great house.

I wouldn't be selling if my husband's commute wasn't two hours one way. Or if my mother didn't live in Brooklyn (1.5 hours) away. Or if 98% of my friends weren't in the city already. Or if this wasn't a crazy, gated community, where their primary concern wasn't imagined security--we live so far out on Long Island, you'd have get lost in order to find us in the first place.

Having said all that, it's a great place to raise kids, the 2% of my friends that are here are great, and we've cultivated a great backyard. It's fairly new; we're the first owners. It's very pretty, if not overly decorated. So why can't I sell?

Could it be that people are starting to wake up and understand that my postage stamp isn't even close to worth over $.5 million? That's my only hope at consolation. Because if I'm stuck in this hell hole I'm going to be really depressed.

My agent assures me that things are picking up, and the right family will be along any second. In the meantime I will be here, enjoying the playground, and my cherry blossoms now in full bloom, and my lilacs that are about to burst, doing my best not to be fined by the homeowners' association for not carrying the proper ID.