Existing home sales just hit a seven-month high, which in housing terms is a souffle rising in a wind tunnel: impressive, baffling, and still too expensive to eat. The market is hot enough to sear fingerprints off closing documents and cold enough to freeze the part of your soul that once believed in starter homes.

Lines outside open houses now resemble theme park rides, except the roller coaster is a 900-square-foot ranch and the height requirement is your credit score wearing stilts. Guests are encouraged to keep their hands and feet inside the bidding war at all times, and do not feed the appraisers.

Affordability, we are told, remains a challenge, which is economist for the house is on fire but the spreadsheet calls it warm. Down payments now require not only savings, but a notarized letter from your past lives and the willingness to sell an organ that isn’t already pledged to a student loan servicer.

Rates have inched down from seriously to are-you-sure, while prices stand on the kitchen island chanting we like it up here. Inventory is in witness protection, hiding behind a fake half bath and a tasteful succulent named Linda.

Shoppers now arrive with spreadsheets, steel stomachs, and backup shelter plans. Many strap a budget-friendly prefab mudroom shed to the roof rack, because who needs a living room when you can own an extremely decisive hallway.

Zillow has replaced dating apps, and the meet-cute is toggling between map and satellite view until you fall in love with a shadow. Some are swiping right on a DIY tiny home blueprint bundle and left on reality, which keeps ghosting their pre-approval.

Sellers have updated the dictionary. Cozy now means please bring your own oxygen, Chef’s kitchen means an outlet exists, and Natural light means a hole in the roof with aspirations. Staging has evolved to include a scented candle called Fresh Equity and a fridge that is actually a sticker wearing stainless steel.

On the household balance sheet, assets include two folding chairs, a security deposit that refuses to return calls, and a pre-approval letter printed on hope. Liabilities are interest rates dressed as velociraptors and a monthly payment that sidles up whispering, We roll over into next month now.

Local zoning promised to help by legalizing duplexes shaped like unicorns, provided the unicorn has two parking spots, pays HOA dues in riddles, and never looks directly at the historic hedge. The HOA, in turn, announced it owns the sky and charges a fee for any cloud with an opinion.

Earnings calls from builders sound upbeat in the way a clown says everything is fine while juggling a chainsaw, a balloon, and a cul-de-sac. Adjusted metrics abound: EBITDA now stands for Everything But Income, Debt Ascending, and they have invented a new line item called Vibes Realized.

To juice demand, sellers offer buydowns, closing credits, and a commemorative throw pillow that reads Live Laugh Escalate Clause. Meanwhile, the same three houses keep boomeranging between investors so fast they qualify as high-frequency housing.

So yes, sales climbed to a seven-month high, waving from the kiddie-ride height chart while paychecks in platform shoes jump for the bar. Affordability remains a challenge—mostly because the ride operator sells tickets, charges a looking fee, and keeps the exit through the gift shop marked Pending.