is everywhere a bust. I spent last week in rural North Carolina. I have some real estate there. No one is buying.
I have been unable to sell my mountain cabin. It is completely renovated, and is beautiful. There are no buyers.
The people seeking refuge from Florida have been coming into north Georgia for a few years now. The spillover caused growth in North Carolina, Tennessee and even in Kentucky. Land prices sidled upward for several years.
The growth has stopped.
I advertised on Google and Yahoo for a while. I did very well with Google. I foolishly traded them for a realtor.
One would think I might have learned. Apparently, I had not.
My realtor is threatening to leave the business and move to some other part of North Carolina.
I wish they all would. Realtors are not a trustworthy lot.
If anyone wants to buy a great cabin in the mountains in rural North Carolina, let me know.
I know
a guy
who
has
a nice one
to sell.
Showing posts with label Real Estate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Real Estate. Show all posts
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Although I like Folsom, California...
it reminds me of George Harrison's song, Crackerbox Palace. My use of the phrase is different from that in the song.
Many neighborhoods in Evansville, Indiana were originally composed of row upon row of shotgun homes. They were privately owned, but essentially "company house" construction. The homes were built with limited lot lines, including a small back yard and usually a small front yard.
These shotguns homes might cover eight or nine hundred square feet of internal floor space. There is very little variation in the floor plans.
Shotgun homes are made socially front-facing. The front porch welcomes visitors. It is where people greet and socialize.
Such neighborhoods are very pretty when they are clean and white washed. They have a certain cultural character that makes them attractive.
These neighborhoods resemble rows of neatly stacked saltine cracker boxes, which are proportionally constructed rectangles. "I welcome you to Crackbox Palace..."
The houses in Folsom, California are virtually indistinguishable on most variables.
The lot lines for Folsom homes are proportionally even smaller than the company house or typical row house construction. There is a ten foot strip of lawn in the front and back, and sometimes a 3 foot strip of rock on either side.
It appears to be the city of seven floor plans. They all feel the same inside, though there is some variation. These are certainly "company houses" though there is a slight variation in the meaning of "company house" here. They were intended to be sold by the companies. The Folsom builders did not have any more imagination than the row house designers.
They are larger than the row houses. Size is correlated closely with price in a non-creative way. Price also varies by school district and elevation. This is perhaps the most sociologically predictable city since Muncie.
While there are, I am told, regulations to govern the similarity of neighboring facades, the actual differences are merely formulaic. The variation is indicative of the range of solutions anyone with only 4 types of Lego would reach.
Folsom houses, while they have a certain architectural attractiveness, have no social character at all. Patio furniture may not be visible from the street. The front porch does not greet with warmth. You never see any actual people in front of the houses. There is no one outside to wave.
These neighborhoods are very pretty when they are clean and white washed. This city and these neighborhoods are very heavily regulated; ergo, they are ALL clean and white washed ALL of the time. Similarly, they have a certain cultural character that makes them attractive. They also have a certain sterility that is as clean and comforting as a very high quality hospital.
From the outside, these neighborhoods resemble rows of neatly stacked saltine cracker boxes, which are proportionally constructed rectangles. "I welcome you to Crackbox Palace..."
We've
been
expecting
you...
Many neighborhoods in Evansville, Indiana were originally composed of row upon row of shotgun homes. They were privately owned, but essentially "company house" construction. The homes were built with limited lot lines, including a small back yard and usually a small front yard.
These shotguns homes might cover eight or nine hundred square feet of internal floor space. There is very little variation in the floor plans.
Shotgun homes are made socially front-facing. The front porch welcomes visitors. It is where people greet and socialize.
Such neighborhoods are very pretty when they are clean and white washed. They have a certain cultural character that makes them attractive.
These neighborhoods resemble rows of neatly stacked saltine cracker boxes, which are proportionally constructed rectangles. "I welcome you to Crackbox Palace..."
The houses in Folsom, California are virtually indistinguishable on most variables.
The lot lines for Folsom homes are proportionally even smaller than the company house or typical row house construction. There is a ten foot strip of lawn in the front and back, and sometimes a 3 foot strip of rock on either side.
It appears to be the city of seven floor plans. They all feel the same inside, though there is some variation. These are certainly "company houses" though there is a slight variation in the meaning of "company house" here. They were intended to be sold by the companies. The Folsom builders did not have any more imagination than the row house designers.
They are larger than the row houses. Size is correlated closely with price in a non-creative way. Price also varies by school district and elevation. This is perhaps the most sociologically predictable city since Muncie.
While there are, I am told, regulations to govern the similarity of neighboring facades, the actual differences are merely formulaic. The variation is indicative of the range of solutions anyone with only 4 types of Lego would reach.
Folsom houses, while they have a certain architectural attractiveness, have no social character at all. Patio furniture may not be visible from the street. The front porch does not greet with warmth. You never see any actual people in front of the houses. There is no one outside to wave.
These neighborhoods are very pretty when they are clean and white washed. This city and these neighborhoods are very heavily regulated; ergo, they are ALL clean and white washed ALL of the time. Similarly, they have a certain cultural character that makes them attractive. They also have a certain sterility that is as clean and comforting as a very high quality hospital.
From the outside, these neighborhoods resemble rows of neatly stacked saltine cracker boxes, which are proportionally constructed rectangles. "I welcome you to Crackbox Palace..."
We've
been
expecting
you...
Monday, October 1, 2007
Proving others are smarter than I...
is a passion of mine. I have often said, "If I am not the dumbest guy in the room, somebody has got to go."
I once frightened a new employee with that statement. He realized within a week or two that he, too, was smarter than I.
Why would I consider hiring someone with less talent and intelligence than I have.
I may be dumb, but I am not stupid.
Today Ray proved again that he is smarter than I by actually doing what I could only describe in a cartoon diagram. He did not need to prove he is smarter. It is unanimously accepted. I contributed in my small way with a challenge to cross the hill. He found a gold mine on the other side.
I benefit from being near such people. Sometimes a small nugget falls from their heavily loaded wagon.
I donate it to charity when I find one.
I have lashed my pony's halter to the rail on his buck-board. I wish him all of our common great success.
He deserves all of the credit.
It is
the least
I
can give,
when
it
is
not
the most
I can give.
I once frightened a new employee with that statement. He realized within a week or two that he, too, was smarter than I.
Why would I consider hiring someone with less talent and intelligence than I have.
I may be dumb, but I am not stupid.
Today Ray proved again that he is smarter than I by actually doing what I could only describe in a cartoon diagram. He did not need to prove he is smarter. It is unanimously accepted. I contributed in my small way with a challenge to cross the hill. He found a gold mine on the other side.
I benefit from being near such people. Sometimes a small nugget falls from their heavily loaded wagon.
I donate it to charity when I find one.
I have lashed my pony's halter to the rail on his buck-board. I wish him all of our common great success.
He deserves all of the credit.
It is
the least
I
can give,
when
it
is
not
the most
I can give.
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