Adventures in House-Buying, Part II

Finally, I'm getting around to ending the suspense. After a weekend of finagling and negotiating, I reached an agreement with the home owners and [insert drum roll] we're signing a contract later this week! I'm still in shock and awe that this is really happening.

Here's how it came together: At the end of last week, I made my offer and the home owners countered almost immediately. We weren't far apart and I wasn't far from my limit. So, I countered with my limit. The home owners countered back, reducing their contribution to the closing costs. My agent relayed their last offer and I immediately responded, "That sounds good to me. I accept!" My agent, being wiser than I, advised some caution. "Maybe you want to think about this?" she suggested. Bursting with confidence and sure that I wasn't going to change my mind, I still heeded her advice. "Maybe you're right," I said, "I'll call you in a few hours." And I went on with my day, because classes started at my new job in 48 hours.

I didn't call the agent a few hours later. Instead, I spent the next few hours transforming from a confident first-time home-buyer into a frozen-footed chicken. I kept thinking about how the deal forced me to my limit - not only to get into the house, but also to be in the house. My carefully guarded savings would be gone, which I was prepared for. What I couldn't reconcile was having to spend incoming reserves on two significant repairs. These expenses would delay my attempts to restore my savings and I don't function well without a safety net.

I also thought about how much I know about home ownership and home repairs. My conclusion: I know squat about these things. No, to be more fair, I know less than squat. I know squat-minus-100 about these things. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a pool, staring straight into the deep end. As I thought about the home purchase, paralysis set in, followed by the cold sweat and the shakes.

I called my agent the next day - the day before classes started - and told her about my anxiety. She understood and said she'd pass my concerns to the home owners. I can assure you that I wasn't playing hard-to-get or any other games. I was playing, "Yikes! I'm drowning in a sea of stress and anxiety!!" Whatever I was doing, it worked to my advantage. The home owners responded to my screaming dash away from their house with another counter offer. I read their offer in the midst of the blur of the first day of classes. I couldn't believe it. It seemed to address all of my concerns. I rubbed my eyes and read it again. Yes, it was true. Having learned my lesson from the previous weekend, I told my agent that I wanted to think about it.

The next day - still in the blur of the first week of classes, I called my agent and accepted the offer. Now, it's on to the contract and home inspections. Along the way, I'm learning all sorts of new things: the difference between 3/4 inch tab shingles vs architectural shingles, the difference between an electric heat pump and gas heat, masonry fireplace vs non-masonry fireplace, crickets and roof vents. I feel sure that this is just the tip of the iceberg. And no, I don't want to know what the rest of the iceberg looks like right now, thank you very much.

In the meantime, classes started this week. House stuff combined with the start of a new semester has kept me hanging on by my fingernails. My tenuous grasp was sorely tested on Monday when I learned that my late afternoon class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm not sure where communication broke down, but I've vowed to shepherd my schedule through all phases of the process to make sure that this travesty is not repeated. For the first time in my relatively short teaching career, I'm teaching every day of the week. So far, I'm not fond of this. Don't get me wrong, I'm accustomed to working for 5 days straight. Hell, I'm accustomed to working 6, even 7 days/week. It's having to put on real clothes, do hair and make-up, be at a certain place at a certain time, and interact with people for 5 straight days that's kicked my ass this week. Yeah, yeah, I know, there are plenty of you out there that have been doing this for years and I should just suck it up. I'd type my response, but I try to maintain some standards of decency in this blog. Let's just say that my response involves five fingers and they're not all pointing in the same direction.

I trust that I'll settle into this schedule. I also trust that this semester where I'm starting a new job, prepping 2 different courses, teaching every day, AND buying a house and moving won't kill me. Next semester, barring any unforeseen problems, I'll have one prep and reclaim Fridays as my "sweats day," hopefully in my new house.

Adventures in House Buying, Part I

Today, I took the plunge. I made an offer on a house. My first offer on my first home. It's still sinking in, but it's certainly a high point at the end of a long, exhausting week.

My real estate agent emailed listings over the weekend and I half-heartedly looked at the pictures, sure that these houses would be as disappointing as the previous 22 houses. I focused in on this house and on Sunday afternoon, I enlisted a friend to drive out for a first-hand look. Immediately upon entering the neighborhood, I felt my spirits lift. This wasn't a cookie-cutter starter home community, nor was it a neighborhood of homes that were past their prime. Instead, it was a neighborhood where people planted gardens and took pride in their homes. All the houses were surrounded by mature trees and there wasn't any through-traffic. All good signs.

The house sits on a rise in the middle of a good-sized lot with trees. As we drove by, my friend commented, "That's really worth looking at." I agreed, hoping that the inside would live up to the curb appeal. The next day, my agent and I headed to the house. The owner is handling the sale so he was there to greet us, accompanied by the world's oldest dog. He showed us around and then offered to take the dog for a walk so we could have some privacy. The dog showed some excitement as the owner got the leash and off they went.

We looked around and I found my enthusiasm again. The house has a lot of what I'm looking for. Best of all, it is clean and well-maintained. It needs some updates, particularly in the kitchen, but there's nothing that needs to be changed immediately. I was thrilled to find out that there's no carpet. I can scrub the tile and wood floors once (maybe twice) and those folks will be out of the house. The whole house gets good light, all the rooms are big enough to give the house the feel of a much larger house, and it's all on one level, so I won't have to navigate stairs all day.

Throughout the endless orientation sessions for my new job, I continued to consider the house. On Wednesday, I received an email from a friend who successfully navigated the stormy seas of home-buying, securing the keys to her new first home. "Maybe this IS possible. If she can do it, so can I," I thought. Riding the wave of encouragement, I called in my uncle who has signed on as knowledgeable consultant and chief hand-holder. We walked through the house and he agreed that this is the best house I've considered. Over lunch, he urged me to make an offer. His stamp of approval really helped to take some of the fear out of the next step.

Late this afternoon, after the latest endless orientation session, I made an offer. We'll see what happens from here. I'm bracing myself for the unexpected because everyone says that something will happen. Hopefully we can get settle on a price and I'll really have something to celebrate on my birthday in 3 weeks. Not a bad birthday present. Not bad at all.

The More Things Change...

This morning, before turning my attention to work, I'm enjoying my morning coffee and reading the local paper. In today's news, seems the much-beleagured Gov. Sanford of South Carolina used state planes for personal use, like the time he flew from Myrtle Beach to Columbia (South Carolina, not South America - important distinction where Sanford is concerned) to get a discount haircut. Guess he learned something from John Edwards's million-dollar haircut. Unfortunately for Sanford, he seems to have learned that he needs to get cheaper haircuts. Big picture, Governor, look for the big picture.

Or, this example:

"Also, on five of the last six Thanksgiving weekends, Sanford used a state plane to fly himself, his wife and their four sons from the family's plantation in Beaufort County to Columbia for the state Christmas tree lighting. The cost for those flights alone: $5,536, including $2,869 for flying the plane empty to pick them up."

OK, using the state plane for this purpose is questionable, but did anyone else get tripped up by "family's plantation"? Not "farm", not "ranch", not "country home." Plantation. Perhaps the bigger scandal is that the Governor is living in the 19th century, a time when the landed gentry could "hike the Appalachian Trail" in peace and get their hair cut wherever they darn well pleased. Yes, his behavior makes perfect sense now.

Adventures in House Hunting, Part II

Since my last update, I've been on 3 house hunting adventures and seen 21 homes. If you're doing the math, 3 trips + 21 houses = burn-out. And that figure doesn't begin to include the hours I've spent on internet searches and drive-bys. Having spent all this time and energy and still coming up empty, I was beginning to feel like a huge loser, like I was doing something terribly wrong. Then, I read the following in House Buying for Dummies: "When you do it right, finding and buying a good home can be a time-consuming pain in the posterior." Validation at last.

Here's my most recent lesson: I'm not willing to settle. Yes, I have limited resources and yes, I know I'm not buying my dream home. But - this is a big investment and I deserve to have a home that I'm comfortable in. Like I said, I've seen 21 houses of all shapes and varieties. Out of the 21, I liked four, but none are quite right. Here's the Goldilocks part of this blog entry: House A was too small, House B had outrageous HOA fees, and Houses C & D were in iffy parts of town. None of them moved me to make an offer, though the small one isn't completely off the table. My agent assures me that this is normal and I'm not being overly picky, which is reassuring. She also assures me that my expectations aren't unreasonable, even in my price range. I hope she's right that my house is out there somewhere and that patience will pay off.

In the meantime, I'll continue the hit parade of bad choices:

• The Cave: Early in the week, we checked out a "3 bedroom unit" in a nearby duplex community. Upon entering the unit, we noticed the master bedroom right inside the door and smack on the front of the unit. No other room had a window that looked out of the front of the building. And it was pretty darn close to the street. Major turn-off. We continued through the unit - nice new kitchen, large living room, and separate dining room. Nice sized 2nd bedroom and another full bath - all good. But where was the much anticipated 3rd bedroom? The 3rd bedroom was a small interior room without windows. It was a cave. I could just hear my greeting to my guests, "Hello, welcome to my home. This is the walk-in closet where you'll be sleeping. Oh, and don't forget these sunglasses. You're going to need them when you emerge from this cave in the morning. Sleep well!" I decided to continue the search.
• Welcome to My House, If You Can Find the Door: Later in the week, we checked out a neighborhood of cluster homes on the other side of town. The agent pulled into the driveway and said, "OK, I'm confused." I looked closely at the rather narrow dark green house and realized that it didn't seem to have a front door, unless you count the garage door that dominated the front of the house. We got out of the car and stared at the garage door, trying to remember any Harry Potter incantation that might open the door. After about 30 seconds, the agent said, "Wait, there's a walk under all these pine needles. Maybe it leads to a door." We crunched our way around the house to the world's least welcoming entry way. Taking a deep breath, we plunged in. Inside was a slight improvement over outside, but the whole place reaked of undergraduates. As we beat feet out of there, I laughed and said, "I could hang out a shingle: Will trade History tutoring for yard work." My agent said, "Or you could just get a keg and call it a night."
• Red and Black Flag: After a long afternoon of house searching, my agent sent a few new listings for my consideration. One was for a 3-bedroom split level in one of my target neighborhoods. Split-level isn't high on my list, in fact it's a rule-out, but since we'd seen everything else in the neighborhood, I decided to read the description. According to the selling agent, the house is a "wonderful, spacious home situated on a generous, mature corner lot." Hmm, I thought, generous and mature. I like those qualities in people, wonder how they translate in real estate - ese. I read further and found this gem: "You will find a fun and playful rec room on the lower level. Painted in a whimsical Bulldog theme and accentuated with adorable, functional, and indestructible glazed concrete floors, this room is the distinctive selling point for this wonderful in-town home." Take a moment to consider how many times you've heard something described as adorable, functional, AND indestructible. That's some floor! And, let's not overlook the "whimsical Bulldog theme." For those unfamiliar with what this means (and I can't imagine who you are), it means that the entire room is painted red and black. I know, I saw the pictures. It's a converted 2-car garage. That's a lot of red and black, even for this bulldog fan. I had to agree, that's a distinctive selling feature all right. Needless to say, I did not add this gem to the list of possibilities.
• Smokey Joe's Toilet: Picture a toilet sitting in a non-descript master bathroom with non-descript linoleum. Now picture a burn mark about 3 inches in diameter about an inch from the base of the toilet. Add smaller burned specks all around the toilet. According to my agent, the seller's agent says that the house owner burned a hole in the linoleum while he was smoking a cigarette. I decided that this was not my house because no amount of hypnosis could erase that image from my brain.

So, the search continues. In the meantime, orientation for my new job is this week and classes start a week from tomorrow. Perhaps now is the time to work in syllabi that stubbornly refuse to write themselves.

Adventures in House Hunting, Part I

On Friday, I went out on my first real estate adventure. My agent took me around for 4.5 hours, which is a long time to look at houses. In those 4.5 hours, I learned some important lessons, which I believe will be the tip of a very large iceberg. Here's what I've learned so far:

• Lesson #1: I need more money. This point was made clear when we went to a dismal, horribly depressing community of starter-homes that are within my budget. Picture Dorothy's house tumbling from the sky and landing in colorized Oz. OK, now remove all the character from the house and send it tumbling from the sky, landing squarely on a concrete slab on newly-cleared Georgia clay that's still in black and white. Getting the picture? No trees, badly laid sod that has turned to sad little lawns, and bland little houses completely devoid of character. I'm convinced that you have to work extra hard to remove that much character from a domicile. After looking at 3 houses, I looked at my agent and said, "If this is my only choice, I'll happily rent for the rest of my life." She assured me that we weren't done for the day.
• Lesson #2: College Town is an oasis in the middle of the boonies: I like living in College Town because it has all the things I like about Big City without all the things that I don't. It's relatively easy to get around, you don't have to wait hours to get into restaurants, tickets for concerts and plays are reasonably priced, and there are multiple coffee shops conveniently located around town. That's the good stuff. Here's the down side: It doesn't take long to leave the relatively safe surrounds of College Town and enter the country, where there's no Starbucks and the only restaurant is Bubba's House of Whatever Beef We Got Today. Continue driving about a mile from Bubba's on an increasingly narrow 2-lane highway and you'll be smack in the middle of the boonies. All within 15 minutes of leaving downtown College Town. In my case, this translates to a smaller radius to hunt for a house, because I don't want to live where people regularly hunt for their dinner. I ain't a big city girl, but I also ain't a country girl. I want to be able to get the ice cream home from the grocery store before it melts.
• Lesson #3: You never know what you'll see on your house hunt: Let me just say that blush countertops were never a good idea. Not in the 1970s, not in the 1980s, not ever. Not in the kitchen, not in the bathrooms, not anywhere at any time. OK, got that off my chest. In another house, I learned a little too much about the current occupants. I looked at an older home - "older" meaning 1970s construction. I was drawn to it by the remodeled kitchen and great room with fabulous fireplace and large windows. Unfortunately, these rooms were connected to the rest of the house. The great room didn't have a television and I wondered if there was a den. The answer was "yes, but..." In the first bedroom, 2 chairs faced a television. The chairs were dead-ringers for Archie and Edith's chairs in "All in the Family." The TV was also vintage, a 15-inch big boxy TV sitting on a sad little stand. That was it. Nothing else in the room. I looked at the agent and said, "This is the saddest den I've ever seen." She agreed. We continued to the master bedroom. In the middle of the room was a very tall bed, which wasn't strange in and of itself, until you gazed at the relatively low ceiling and realized that the world's largest ceiling fan hung above the bed. I seriously don't think that you could sit up in bed without getting your head caught in the fan. And, as if that wasn't enough, the fan's chain was so long that it stopped about 8 inches above the foot of the bed. I said, "You could claw-toe that chain," and my agent replied, "Guess that's how they stop the fan so they can sit up without injury."
• This house brings me to Lesson #4: I need to be very honest about how much time, energy, and resources I want to devote to a house. In the 1970s house, the great room and remodeled kitchen were pretty darn great. The rest of the house, including the exterior, needed a major overhaul. I can only hope that someone will fall in love with the house and give it the attention it deserves. I'm honest enough to admit that I am not that person. After looking at houses with yards, I'm rethinking my commitment there as well. Yes, I'd like some space between my neighbors and yes, I'd like to look out on green space. However, I don't like to mow. I don't like to water. I don't like to dig in dirt. I don't like to sweat. You see the problem here.
• Lesson #5: A bland house doesn't have to stay bland. In our search, we found two starter homes that were remarkable because the owners made a few well-chosen changes. Both homes had tile floors in the kitchen and baths, wood floors in the main living areas, new paint on the walls, and relatively new decks on the back of the house. None of these upgrades were top-of-the-line, but made a big difference in the houses. While I wasn't thrilled with either neighborhood, I was encouraged that if I was faced with a character-free house, I could, over time, do some things to perk it up.
• Lesson #6: I don't have much pioneer spirit. When the housing bubble burst in College Town, it spewed a slew of unfinished high-density developments on my side of town. These are dismal, creepy places. The streets are paved and named, some houses are finished and stand within 20 feet of each other, but they look out on a big open field full of PVC pipes and weeds that are taller than I am (no height jokes allowed). The developments look like a tornado ripped through and spared a few random houses. Builders are desparately trying to sell the finished products before starting new homes, if they can even build new homes. Sure, I could buy into this emerging development, but there's no guarantee that the finished product will adhere to the original vision, and I'll have to live in a construction zone for years. Again, if this is my choice, I'll rent.
• Lesson #7: Patience. This is not my strong suit by a long shot. I'll admit that I'm feeling a bit discouraged. I thought my money would go farther. I thought I'd have better options. I thought I knew what I wanted. Friday was a series of, "OK, if you want a yard, this is what's available in your price range," followed by disappointment. "OK, if you want to be closer to town, this is what's in your price range," followed by disappointment. I'm certainly not giving in, but I am rethinking what I thought were my priorities.

More updates as the adventure continues.