Saved By Zillow
The Upside of Compulsive Behavior
Compulsions rarely have an upside. My particular fixation over the pandemic and, if I’m being honest, for some period of time preceding it, is Zillow, the real estate website. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the Sunday real estate classified section in the local newspaper; Zillow’s network is vast, and makes my girlhood fixation look like, well, child’s play.
I love knowing what houses are worth. I love nosing around their interiors. I love scoping out houses for sale in my own neighborhood and in neighborhoods thousands of miles away. I even love pointless details, like knowing when homes were built or what they pay in taxes. For me, it’s an addictive dopamine hit/time suck. But if you think this and other internet obsessions, from Petfinders to eBay, are weak-willed wastes of time, have I got a story for you.
Next month Sam and I are going to Chapel Hill, North Carolina to visit our daughters and son-in-law. We made arrangements to stay in an Airbnb, where, we were told (and I’m quoting here) “you’ll have the entire place to yourselves”. The photos showed an immaculate, cozy ranch. Imagine my surprise when, after scrolling through Zillow, I saw the same house listed for sale.
“Is that a problem?” I asked Sam. “I mean, I’ve never seen a house we’ve rented on Airbnb for sale.”
“I think it’s fine,” Sam said. “They can’t show it when we’re there, but it doesn’t bother me.”
“You don’t think it’s bizarre?”
“Maybe the owner- what’s his name, Mike?- decided to Airbnb it while he was trying to sell. I’m not worried,” Sam said. Case closed.
Weeks pass, and I move on to Zillow in other locales- Palm Springs, Key West. I mean, it’s cold in Connecticut, and a person can dream, right? Then, this past weekend, on a whim, I scrolled back to Zillow, Chapel Hill to check up on our Airbnb place. I mean, what if it got sold?
It was still listed, only this time with four additional photos of what looked like a gross basement apartment. There was a cluttered kitchen, cramped windowless living room, and bedroom with its closet door open and clothes spilling out. What about “you’ll have the entire place to yourselves?”
We contacted the owner and sure enough, there was not only one, but two basement apartments. They have separate entrances, Mike responded. You’ll never see the tenants.
Obviously, we cancelled. Not only did we not want to share a house with strangers in another state during a pandemic, we felt that Mike, whose profile pic now looked decidedly nefarious, had, if not deceived, definitely mislead us. We rented a cottage in the woods with a Superhost owner and 50 five-star reviews.
I think there are very few times in life when an unhealthy fixation saves the day, but this was one. Even Sam had to admit that if it weren’t for my Zillow addiction, we’d have found ourselves, at the end of a ten-hour drive, in tough situation.
I’m sure there’s a moral to this story and I’d love to arrive at it with a clever and satisfying conclusion, but I see my monthly local update based on homes I viewed in 93023 is in. Thanks, Zillow. Ojai, California, here I come.