House Prices on the Web are Enough to Drive You Batty

About four years ago, I had a sudden urge to discover just how much my lovely  Levitt Colonial was worth. That was when "For Sale" signs were beginning to pop up like weeds all around the city and then, as now, there was mayhem in the real estate market. So I went online to see what information  I could digitally dig up.

I discovered that it was then possible for Bowie house prices to fluctuate by thousands of dollars within minutes. It appears that not much has changed, but certainly not for the better price-wise.

There are several Web sites that will immediately give you a value for your house. Zillow.com seems to be the favorite of the bunch. It also presents you with a nice aerial shot of your estate. Zillow said my house was worth $366,808 (talk about precise). This week dear Zillow says the Rouse mansion is worth $255,000. Yikes! If this keeps up it will be back at the original selling prices of $24,900.

Four years ago, that was my first stop on the house price trail. Next, I moused my way to www.realestateabc.com, which told me I owned a house that I could sell for $417,000. Wow, I thought, that's even better. Last week the same site claimed I could fetch that previously cited $255,000. I was not finding this information at all cheering.

Yahoo noted that back in 2007 a house exactly like  mine (but with no addition) had sold for $429,000. Hmmm, I thought, maybe I could reach the half-million level before my Web wandering ended (back then, that is). But not now. Yahoo's latest estimate is $243,819 to $255,000. I knew I didn't like to search on Yahoo for anything.

Homegain.com was next on the old search. It offered a figure of $357,000. Now here's the funny part of this: Last week's figure at that same site was listing a value of $350,525 to $434, 065. Umm, I thought, either this outfit isn't really keeping up with real estate prices or it just wants to lure someone into its web and then sting them with the true value.

It was bizarre, to say the least, because I know that no house identical to mine has sold for anything near those lofty prices in moons.

Cyberhomes four years ago gave me an estimate of $351,828 to $448.920. Not today though. It has dropped its prices to $248,160 to $315,480 (perhaps if you have a pool and a barbeque pit).

There are houses over in Long Ridge—you know, those big Country Clubbers—that sit on the market for ages these days before selling for thousands less than the owners had hoped for. There are also lots of people in the city whose houses wouldn't sell for what they still owe the mortgage company. What a mess.
 Obviously my new Web wanderings haven't made me a happy camper, or seller, unless the optimistic Homegain proves right. Sure, and a pig might fly into a Bowie real estate office.

I think you had better stay away from Web house valuations if you want to maintain your sanity. No wonder local real estate sales people never look happy these days. Oh, where have those big commissions disappeared to? Now we know, but I doubt any of these house-selling folks will be seen at the Bowie Food Pantry.

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Now for some upbeat information.

Those irksome little slips of the mind known euphemistically as "senior moments" are no such thing. From trim, well-nourished Bowie High athletes to aging and less than agile Patch columnists, everyone experiences these mini-blackouts of the brain. Chalk them up to stress and busy lives, say the experts.

I'm glad to hear that. Being a bit on the ripe side of life's big cantaloupe, I had assumed I was losing my marbles every time I forgot where I was heading off to or couldn't for the life of me put a name to a face.

Nope, the marbles are still rolling about merrily in the brain. Men, women, boys, girls, even politicians can experience these brief mental intermezzos up to 30 times a week. How about that? A Finnish researcher supplied this wonderful news.

I regularly experience surges of temper, often stomping to and fro boiling over with righteous indignation over something or other (perhaps a screed from some local loony who thinks everyone in City Hall is crooked, along with me. That would be quite a trick since I've been retired from a newspaper for three years and no one pays me off to praise them here at Patch. Well, one local businessman did buy me a beer.)

Even frequent ingestion of herbal memory enhancers didn't seem to help, so you can imagine my relief when I read the research from chilly Finland. Especially since those "enhancers" are so expensive.

I often listen to my voice mail, nod after hearing some message of importance, delete it and then forget what the heck it was about from whom it came. If any of you haven't received responses to messages you left for me, it wasn't a snub—it was a perfectly acceptable "senior moment." Sorry about that, Gov. O'Malley. Just kidding.

I'll often look up a word in the dictionary (for some reason I seem to search for Manichean on a regular basis) and within seconds the definition which I had just ushered into the recesses of my brain will vanish. I then think I'm totally losing it. Nope. Bless that Finnish researcher; she says it's normal.

There is no reason to take these incidents seriously. I'm just too busy (what is it I do again?), or I've been stressed beyond my limits by critical reactions to my Patch columns. Ah, good. Time to look up Manichean again. Then all I have to do is figure out how to slip it into a column about, say, the City Council. That should be easy. Look it up and you'll see what I mean.

These lapses are perfectly acceptable, says the researcher, even to those irritating people who bore us to tears with their perfect recall. "You were wrong about that city ordinance being passed in 1982. It was 1983. Feb. 23rd at 10:34 p.m. to be precise." Oh, bite me. Save me from these people! But now I know this same person may have forgotten to put on his underpants that morning.

I sometimes tell people something twice. That's because I can't remember who I told that something to in the first place. Though I don't like to repeat myself, sometimes it's necessary. I notice that the mayor and City Counil members do it all the time. It's OK, guys and gal, it's normal, even for you.

The only incidents that really bother me are failing to recall a face. There I am looking around the Giant for something which I've probably forgotten when someone approaches me and begins a conversation and I haven't a clue who it is.

My brain achingly kicks into overdrive to place a name to the face. Zilch. Meanwhile, the poor soul is asking about my wife and son by name, how the last trip to Scotland went. I fake my way through the verbal exchange, hoping the sweat on my head doesn't show.

Later, as I toss the groceries into the car it dawns on. Good heavens, that was so-and-so from City Hall, a person with whom I chat regularly. Don't worry about it, says the Finn. OK, I won't. Maybe I should load photos of everyone I know into my zippy little cellphone. Ah, yes, that lady who commented on my last column was a Bowie librarian Or maybe Sen. Doug Peter's aide.

If you run into me at the store and I don't recognize you, or I don't return your phone call, or I mistake you for someone else, please don't get upset. Remember, the researchers say it can happen to you, too.

Now, where was I?