You may have been in our house.

The cute little 1940s bungalow we’ve rented for the past seven years is for sale, and in the past month the realtor has hosted three open houses. That means we have no idea who’s been walking our hardwood, opening our cupboard doors or peeing in our toilet.

I knew the moment our home went from an exclusive listing to the Multiple Listing Service two weeks ago because that evening I heard voices and looked to find two men and a woman standing in our garden looking in the window. Since then real estate-crazed trespassers have let themselves into our back yard through the side gate, walked across our lawn and flowers and snapped pictures of the house with the glee of paparazzi parked outside Hollywood’s Mr. Chow. The street in front of our home looks like a high-end car dealership with a constant parade of Mercedes, BMWs, Land Rovers, Jaguars, Lexus and Audis. We don’t even blink now when yet another $200,000 black Mercedes SLS stops in front of our home at 10 o’clock at night and the owner gets out to take pictures with their iPhone.

The first open house was as an exclusive listing with one realtor and almost 40 people came through. The second open house was for “realtors” and about 70 people dropped by, while an estimated 200 Lookie Loos were expected for the third open house this past Sunday. It was this last open house that sent me over the top. Prior to vacating for four hours, I printed off signs that read “Please Remove your Shoes” for the front and back doors and “Private” for our closets, which I also tied closed. My thought is that if you have the cash to buy this home I’ll show you my closet, but there is no reason on earth my neighbours or Craigslist followers should get a look at my shoes (or skeletons). I also went completely over the top and wrapped toilet paper around our toilet because I decided no more strangers were going to pee in our home. By this time my partner was beginning to look at me as if I’d lost it, which to be truthful was pretty much the case, but I promise that toilet paper will be coming out again this weekend when the realtor hosts the fourth, and I hope, final open house.

It seems to me the fact the house is going to be torn down makes an open house moot, but hey, maybe that’s just me. After witnessing first hand the extreme interest in this house, I laughed out loud last week when I saw an article in the Vancouver Sun with the headline “More sales listings bring balance to market.” We live in a 2,300-square-foot, $2 million tear-down, which to me does not exactly scream “balance.” The article quotes Carol Frketich, regional economist for Canada Mortgage and Housing who says, “typically when prices move higher, listings do come on the market.” According to the Real Estate Board of Greater Vancouver, that trend means a “calmer market” for realtors with fewer bidding wars… Seriously?

I always assumed if I lived in a $2 million home it would include a pool, and more importantly a pool boy, but that’s not the case. Instead, our $2 million home offers well-kept hardwood floors, rounded ceilings and lovely heritage roses planted by the original owner.

In the seven years we’ve lived on our street almost every one of the sweet, little post-war bungalows on our block has been demolished and replaced with a 4,000-square-foot behemoth, which I know is the fate of our place. All of our new neighbours are wealthy Asians, many of whom I’ve never laid eyes on. Just as many seem slow to trust. But in the past year or so I’ve made some headway and I’m now on a first-name basis with two neighbours. Unfortunately, it’s just in time to say goodbye.

For a peek at what a $2 million house looks like in Vancouver, see my column online at vancourier.com.

sthomas@vancourier.com

Twitter: @sthomas10