My neighbor came to tour my house the other day. The house they are renting is up for sale. The price the owner is asking is rediculous, but it is directly on the water, so sooner or later, some idiot will pay over a million for a piece of property about 40 feet wide with a dump of a house on it. My neighbors have lived across the street from me for about 20 years. They are friendly ....good neighbors. I will hate to see them go.
At the same time, I have a house for sale in the next town. I put a lot of work into it, so it was a hard decision to sell it. It is adjacent to a golf course, on a half acre of trees, with a little stream running across the back corner of the lot. I rented it for a while. After having to go through housing court two times to get the tenant out, I decided it is time to sell this house.
Since the house is not my primary residence, I will have to pay capital gains to the government. My accountant advised me that if I moved into the house for a while, I could make it my primary residence and save, at least partially, capital gains. I agreed it was a good idea.
But what of my real primary residence? I don't want to sell the house on Melba Street. I will never get another chance to have a house on the water...well, across the street from the water.
Eureka, an idea! I will rent my Melba Street house to my neighbors .
Since I have a truck, I will move myself except for the heavy furniture. The appliances stay in place. No moving washer and dryer, etc. The packing of boxes has begun. When I have a truck load, I move the stuff out of the house. Over and over I move stuff out of the house. When I return to Melba Street, it looks like nothing was taken out. Where did all that "stuff" come from? Twenty eight years of living in one place means accumulation of a lot of things.
Some things were saved because of the memories attached. In spite of the sentimentality, some things must be discarded. Do I really need my professional wardrobe, now that I am retired? Do I need that extra queen size bed in the basement? Four work benches? Four desks and a typing stand? How many sets of glasses do I need to drink out of? How many dishes and pots? Three sewing machines? How did I accumulate so many blankets and sheet sets? I have more towels than I can fit into the linen closet.
The extra furniture is the result of marrying a man later in life who owned the other houses. They came furnished. I inherited Bob's furniture, his parent's furniture and by gosh, some of his grandparent's furniture. Over the past 10 years, I've sold off some, gave some away, donated some to charity, and threw out a lot of trash. Stuff sitting around for a long time picks up a lot of dirt. I did a lot of cleaning so things looked OK for a garage sale...and another garage sale...and another one last summer.
There is a bid coming in for my house for sale. They are pursuing a mortgage. Hold the plans to move in. All that work is not worth it if I am only staying a month or two. Plan B says I move into the Park Circle house that was Bob's before I married him. ..and pay the capital gains tax. I don't want to lose the sale of the house to avoid paying taxes.
The moving of boxes continues, but they go into the Park Circle house. I hope the mortgage application goes through all right, because the house location is just right for the applicants. I hope my neighbors decide to move across the street and get out of their dumpy house, yet still enjoy the beach they have grown to love. I hope I survive moving.