Homebound

By Diane Saatchi

Homebound

Every morning I wake up, shower, get dressed, head to my office, and hop on the phone, just like I always have.

Except it’s not the same at all.

Under New York State’s stay-at-home order, life looks different in almost every way. Sure, I wake up at the same time every day, shower, and get dressed — but I don’t really need to. Instead of being 10 minutes down the road, my office is just downstairs, and it doubles as my at-home gym where I take virtual Pilates classes three times a week. I eat lunch at the same time every day, not because of my tight schedule, but rather to maintain normalcy. I plan some house showings (fewer than usual), but if they aren’t virtual, they’re a coordinated dance of housekeepers, disinfectant, gloves, and masks.

I know I’m not alone in this: Everyday life is different for just about everyone doing their best to isolate at home. 

In 2017, I wrote:

“Home is where the important things happen; it is where we spend most of our time and where our memories are created. Lives and relationships begin and end, children grow up, and we grow old in our homes. It’s where we celebrate and mourn. At its best, home is the ultimate safe and happy place.”

But when home is no longer the place you leave and return to — but rather the place you work, exercise, and go to school — it takes on a whole new meaning.

At this point, I’ve spent countless hours talking to people about houses and homes. While we’re all apart, I’ve found conversations that used to take 10 minutes easily stretch into an hour. Where are you buying fresh produce? Have you been able to schedule a PeaPod delivery? What have you heard about the rental market? Whatever happened to that three-bedroom we toured in 2018? Being on opposite ends of the phone line is somehow more intimate than being in the same room; it reminds me of driving in a car, where people express more of themselves sitting side by side rather than having to look the listener in the face. That, and they’re filling time.

I’ve heard endless tales of people cleaning their pantries, emptying their drawers, donating clothes and making more space to live in their homes. They’re setting up offices in closets, finding workspaces for parents (and three kids) at once, carving out new space from areas that had been neglected or underused until now. From renters who are parted from their own home and belongings, I’ve heard a surprising amount of adaptation to living with less. Somehow, they’re finding what they have now is enough. Marie Kondo would be proud.

How they use their house isn’t the only change; it’s also how their family operates within it. Gone are the days of coming home at night to unwind and download. No one is used to having their school-age kids around all the time. I know one family whose teenage daughter is doing online classes in LA; the headquarters of her mom’s firm is in the UK so the family’s need to “keep it down” covers most of every weekday. I know another family who was upset that their teenager is always locked in his room, so they don’t see him from morning until night. As they told me about it, however, we came to realize: They’d never seen him during the day. Just because he’s in the same house doesn’t mean its family time.

I can’t tell you what this will mean for the real estate market going forward, but I can tell you one thing remains constant: Buyers and sellers are operating from completely different planets. Buyers tell me they’re holding out for the deal of a lifetime — the market has stumbled, and the stock market dropped, so they won’t be considering anything for less than a 30% discount. Sellers tell me that people will be clamoring for bolt-holes after the pandemic, and all of those people who realize they can work from home are bound to want a Hamptons house — the demand will surge and the sale prices with it. Somehow, as the current climate brings people together, it’s pushing buyers and sellers even further apart. As is usually the case, deals are happening when properties are priced for current conditions and the parties have similar views towards the future.

For me, and I suspect for many of us, the hardest part of our current situation is a change in our sphere of control. We’re all anxious about our health and the health of others, about our finances — perhaps about our real estate deals — and about the world in general. The news is different, and more personal, than ever before. None of us have any distance from the pandemic. It’s right here: the obituaries, the stock market charts, the masks. I doubt most of us who are alive now have ever experienced this before, and it’s scary.

Plus, there was no preparation for transitioning from what was to what is now. No prom, going away party, no ritual. It just happened. One day we’re seeing our classmates, teachers, colleagues, and friends, and the next we’re faced with a screen — not an unfamiliar screen, but now it’s all we have.

For me, I’m coping with the changes by trying to find something positive to occupy my time. I’ve been raising money for the Springs Food Pantry, baking cookies for hospital staff, and getting involved with TurboVote to spur college kids to get their friends to register to vote, whether at home or in the state where they’re in school.

As much as I can be, I’m doing fine. How are you?

© 2020 Diane Saatchi