CLOSED!!
As of 5:30, the house is ours*.
* as long as we keep paying the mortgage.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
"REALITY" TV.
Two days until closing. In the meantime, the Wife and I have been watching a bunch of shows on HGTV, "just to get ideas". Really, it is more like the Wife watches, I heckle. She gets ideas for decorating, furniture, "window treatments" (the accessory formerly known as "drapes"), floors, paint, plants, bathrooms, carpets, pillows, and cabinets. How walls can be torn down and rebuilt in 30 television minutes, that sod can grow anywhere, and that the pentultimate goal in life to achieve is "curb appeal". My idea: the USA has been passed up as the top contractors of the world by the Canadians. Seriously. All of the shows that have what all guys want in a G-rated show (demolition and reconstruction) are all hosted by these guys that talk about how they need to build something oot, and that the solution for all remodelling and structural problems is lots of money. Like $400,000 for a 1300 square foot house. Maybe they use the metric system for their money, too.
The worst has got to be the ones with people that are followed as they look for a new house. "House Hunters", where some family/ couple/ single person works with a local realtor to view local unrealistic displays of what money can find in the local market, each with tiny little flaws that make for drama during the commercial breaks, as to which of the three houses is chosen ("the one on the hill does have that gator problem, but the double vanity in the master bathroom is georgeous!") I am sure some people are betting on the outcome. But here's the problem: it is totally fake. As in "buy the house, and we will work it into the episode as your choice while we find two other houses to use as ringers" fake.
I've read how some folks compare "House Hunters" to the fakeness of professional wrestling. That's a false comparison: wrestling is not fake, it is well choreographed and scripted. When Mick Foley gets his ear torn off in the ring, when John Cena flies through the air, when Ric Flair slaps some schmo across the chest, that isn't fake.
"Property Virgins" doesn't seem fake. Perhaps it's all too real, but we'll never see those participants get screwed for the first time, either.
Two days until closing. In the meantime, the Wife and I have been watching a bunch of shows on HGTV, "just to get ideas". Really, it is more like the Wife watches, I heckle. She gets ideas for decorating, furniture, "window treatments" (the accessory formerly known as "drapes"), floors, paint, plants, bathrooms, carpets, pillows, and cabinets. How walls can be torn down and rebuilt in 30 television minutes, that sod can grow anywhere, and that the pentultimate goal in life to achieve is "curb appeal". My idea: the USA has been passed up as the top contractors of the world by the Canadians. Seriously. All of the shows that have what all guys want in a G-rated show (demolition and reconstruction) are all hosted by these guys that talk about how they need to build something oot, and that the solution for all remodelling and structural problems is lots of money. Like $400,000 for a 1300 square foot house. Maybe they use the metric system for their money, too.
The worst has got to be the ones with people that are followed as they look for a new house. "House Hunters", where some family/ couple/ single person works with a local realtor to view local unrealistic displays of what money can find in the local market, each with tiny little flaws that make for drama during the commercial breaks, as to which of the three houses is chosen ("the one on the hill does have that gator problem, but the double vanity in the master bathroom is georgeous!") I am sure some people are betting on the outcome. But here's the problem: it is totally fake. As in "buy the house, and we will work it into the episode as your choice while we find two other houses to use as ringers" fake.
I've read how some folks compare "House Hunters" to the fakeness of professional wrestling. That's a false comparison: wrestling is not fake, it is well choreographed and scripted. When Mick Foley gets his ear torn off in the ring, when John Cena flies through the air, when Ric Flair slaps some schmo across the chest, that isn't fake.
"Property Virgins" doesn't seem fake. Perhaps it's all too real, but we'll never see those participants get screwed for the first time, either.
Monday, June 18, 2012
MAKING THE HOUSE OUR HOME, or MARKING OUR TERRITORY.
Like any other relationship between people, marriage is often a series of negotiations. Yes, it has another term, "compromise", but it is really an ongoing series of negotiations toward reaching a common goal, which is how to live under the same roof, happy. It's a give-and-take. I give, she takes (ba-doom-bah! Thank you, thank you, I kid, because I love.) But the Wife (aka, the OTMBO) and I managed to make it thus far, by finding a house that needed no compromise, in terms of location, size, number of bedrooms, location of the washer and dryer hookups, etc. Now the next test: how to make the house our own.
Anything that is obtained after it is used is new to someone else. Same with houses. This is not meant to be a museum dedicated to the way of the life of all previous owners, this is our casa. Or, will be ours (closing on June 21). And "ours" should mean what we both agree on, to represent "us", like a combined, fused vision of the domocile where we will spend our golden years. Umm, yeah. right.
Times like these, I am jealous of cavemen. Low expectations, low maintenance, and no concerns about decorations beyond stick figures of Og and his compadres killing a buffalo, with the wimpy caveman Iggy impaled on the horns. His Wife Ogetta never complained about how the cave would look so much better if the floor had Brazillian Cherry wood laminate, or if their dwelling would look so much brighter if the walls were medium eggshell white. Or to get rid of that ugly drawing on the wall of her brother Iggy and the buffalo. "Want" and "need" were almost interchangable: "I want food", "I need food". That was it. As relative wealth and luxury became available, Oggette expected the medium eggshell white walls and the Brazillian Cherry laminate (even before there was a "cherry", "laminate" or even a "Brazil"). And the record of Iggy's hilarious demise would remain undiscovered for centuries.
Today, "want" and "need" are equally interchangable, as well. "I want 12mm handscraped hickory laminate flooring and white vertical blinds" means "Get me the 12mm handscraped hickory laminate flooring and white vertical blinds, I need them". Hence, the latest round of negotiations, about the floors in the family room and the front hall/ kitchen/ dining area. Currently, they are vinyl sheeting, in a homage to 1970s interior decoration. Today, they do not even qualify as kitchy. And the seam between the sheets is starting to come up. This leaves room for compromise between the OTMBO and I.
WIFE: "I want the Nantucket Beech wood planks with the 3mm padding underneath, installed by those nice people at the flooring store for ONLY 80 cents a square foot, and that will get rid of those ugly seams. Won't that look wonderful with the eggshell white fabric vertical blinds?"
me: "I have clear packing tape that will keep that seam down."
WIFE: "You don't love me any more, do you?"
See? Room for compromise. That's why we will likely get the wood laminate, and I get to install it. What wives lack in negotiating and rhetorical skills, they more than make up for in leverage. Guys, you know what I mean.
Like any other relationship between people, marriage is often a series of negotiations. Yes, it has another term, "compromise", but it is really an ongoing series of negotiations toward reaching a common goal, which is how to live under the same roof, happy. It's a give-and-take. I give, she takes (ba-doom-bah! Thank you, thank you, I kid, because I love.) But the Wife (aka, the OTMBO) and I managed to make it thus far, by finding a house that needed no compromise, in terms of location, size, number of bedrooms, location of the washer and dryer hookups, etc. Now the next test: how to make the house our own.
Anything that is obtained after it is used is new to someone else. Same with houses. This is not meant to be a museum dedicated to the way of the life of all previous owners, this is our casa. Or, will be ours (closing on June 21). And "ours" should mean what we both agree on, to represent "us", like a combined, fused vision of the domocile where we will spend our golden years. Umm, yeah. right.
Times like these, I am jealous of cavemen. Low expectations, low maintenance, and no concerns about decorations beyond stick figures of Og and his compadres killing a buffalo, with the wimpy caveman Iggy impaled on the horns. His Wife Ogetta never complained about how the cave would look so much better if the floor had Brazillian Cherry wood laminate, or if their dwelling would look so much brighter if the walls were medium eggshell white. Or to get rid of that ugly drawing on the wall of her brother Iggy and the buffalo. "Want" and "need" were almost interchangable: "I want food", "I need food". That was it. As relative wealth and luxury became available, Oggette expected the medium eggshell white walls and the Brazillian Cherry laminate (even before there was a "cherry", "laminate" or even a "Brazil"). And the record of Iggy's hilarious demise would remain undiscovered for centuries.
Today, "want" and "need" are equally interchangable, as well. "I want 12mm handscraped hickory laminate flooring and white vertical blinds" means "Get me the 12mm handscraped hickory laminate flooring and white vertical blinds, I need them". Hence, the latest round of negotiations, about the floors in the family room and the front hall/ kitchen/ dining area. Currently, they are vinyl sheeting, in a homage to 1970s interior decoration. Today, they do not even qualify as kitchy. And the seam between the sheets is starting to come up. This leaves room for compromise between the OTMBO and I.
WIFE: "I want the Nantucket Beech wood planks with the 3mm padding underneath, installed by those nice people at the flooring store for ONLY 80 cents a square foot, and that will get rid of those ugly seams. Won't that look wonderful with the eggshell white fabric vertical blinds?"
me: "I have clear packing tape that will keep that seam down."
WIFE: "You don't love me any more, do you?"
See? Room for compromise. That's why we will likely get the wood laminate, and I get to install it. What wives lack in negotiating and rhetorical skills, they more than make up for in leverage. Guys, you know what I mean.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
THE FINAL WALKTHROUGH. As required under the contract, today we had the final walkthrough, a technicality to ensure that the sellers have left everything as promised. As expected, everything was removed, but the owners did leave one thing behind: a five inch binder with "Welcome To Your New House", with receipts, manuals, and contact information for all of the maintenance for the house and property. In the front was a letter, giving a bit of the history of their family's time in the house, and offering their best wishes to the new owners. The real estate agent said that she had never seen anything like this before, and it will certainly come in handly to know what we have.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee, thank you very much. You have been most helpful.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee, thank you very much. You have been most helpful.
Friday, June 15, 2012
THE MORTGAGE PROCESS, or HOW TO PROMISE TO SPEND $300,000 OVER 30 YEARS WHEN YOU CAN'T PAY $100,000 ALL AT ONCE.
The closing date is set for June 21 (not the specific time), as the mortgage paperwork has finally cleared the last bureaucratic hurdle. Compared to the stories of masochistic horrors that family have described their own experiences, this has been a relatively painless process. Kind of like a prostate exam given by someone with small hands; still feels like being left wide open and vulnerable, but knowing that it could be worse.
Back in the bad old days, before the mortgage meltdown of the early 21st Century when everyone was buying houses because "everyone else are buying houses", the mortgage process seemed to be much easier:
broker: "Here, hold this under your nose."
borrower: "What is it?"
broker: "A mirror, see if you can make it fog up. Give me your left hand."
borrower: "What for?"
broker: "Just checking for a pulse. Aaaaannnnd, were done! Will that be $250K, or the half million?"
Thus, the creation of the "liar loan". Borrower lies to the lenderabout his income, lendor lies to the mortgage company about the ability of the borrower to pay, the appraiser lies about the true value of the property (based on the value of other nearby liar loan transactions), mortgage companies and banks lie to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, and overnment examiners about their loan portfolios, Fannie and Freddie split up the loans, break them up and rebundle them like a bad panel of waferboard, and lie about how wonderful an investment the loan business is. And sooner or later, someone is foreclosing on those left holding the bag. Like Iceland.
But now their is more scrutiny, for fear that this will be THE one loan that will send the world's economy back into the Bronze Age. But thanks to politicians that get their knowledge of banking and the economy from their friends and contributors (Dodd-Frank), the mortgage process is now more like a cavity search, without the Miranda warning. And with a down payment. Our process, however, came with painkillers.
First, we greatly benefited from a friend in the business, someone who is involved in writing mortgages and able to get ideas, like the most important: pre-approval. Gets some of the hard stuff out of the way, sets the pattern of the paperwork tsunami that is about to begin, and gives an idea of what we could afford, with two months of bank statements and pay stubs. And then knowing that what we could afford, we could not afford, and scaling down to something more reasonable. Next step, find the house. But I've already covered that process.
Once the offer was accepted, then the paperwork began. The two months of bank statements and pay stubs? Need them again. Any non-usual deposits? Better be ready to explain where they came from. I had sold a few things, collected the money using Square. Time for a short-answer essay why the money was collected, and how this is not a usual occurance. I have a freind getting a much larger mortgage, that was advised not to deposit money, lest he have to get five statements explaining the source of the funds.
The mortgage application itself was a 39 page of redundancy, and federally-mandated warnings and advisories. Nice to know that the law prohibits mortgages given to known terrorists (there's a form for that). Truth in lending acknowledgement. An "intent to proceed with application" form (page 14). "Notice of right to receive appraisal form" (page 18). Acknowledgement of the "Flood Disclosure Protection Act of 1973" (page 23 - 25). "Mortgage Fraud Is Investigated By The FBI" form (page 36), with a 30 year prison sentence for lying on any of the forms (because one person lying on a $100K mortgage is FAR WORSE that a government that lies about its billions of wasteful spending). Multiple reporting of Social Security and driver license numbers. Then to be told that the one thing holding up the mortgage was that there wasn't a copy of the Social Security cards and drive licenses, because a government agency can't find that information for themselves.
So now we have the closing in five days. The lawnmower is still in the truck, soon to be joined by the latest purchase, an air compressor (need the nail gun feature, and it was on sale). Next: power tools (that will require a real commitment, to just one brand of rechargable battery).
The closing date is set for June 21 (not the specific time), as the mortgage paperwork has finally cleared the last bureaucratic hurdle. Compared to the stories of masochistic horrors that family have described their own experiences, this has been a relatively painless process. Kind of like a prostate exam given by someone with small hands; still feels like being left wide open and vulnerable, but knowing that it could be worse.
Back in the bad old days, before the mortgage meltdown of the early 21st Century when everyone was buying houses because "everyone else are buying houses", the mortgage process seemed to be much easier:
broker: "Here, hold this under your nose."
borrower: "What is it?"
broker: "A mirror, see if you can make it fog up. Give me your left hand."
borrower: "What for?"
broker: "Just checking for a pulse. Aaaaannnnd, were done! Will that be $250K, or the half million?"
Thus, the creation of the "liar loan". Borrower lies to the lenderabout his income, lendor lies to the mortgage company about the ability of the borrower to pay, the appraiser lies about the true value of the property (based on the value of other nearby liar loan transactions), mortgage companies and banks lie to Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, and overnment examiners about their loan portfolios, Fannie and Freddie split up the loans, break them up and rebundle them like a bad panel of waferboard, and lie about how wonderful an investment the loan business is. And sooner or later, someone is foreclosing on those left holding the bag. Like Iceland.
But now their is more scrutiny, for fear that this will be THE one loan that will send the world's economy back into the Bronze Age. But thanks to politicians that get their knowledge of banking and the economy from their friends and contributors (Dodd-Frank), the mortgage process is now more like a cavity search, without the Miranda warning. And with a down payment. Our process, however, came with painkillers.
First, we greatly benefited from a friend in the business, someone who is involved in writing mortgages and able to get ideas, like the most important: pre-approval. Gets some of the hard stuff out of the way, sets the pattern of the paperwork tsunami that is about to begin, and gives an idea of what we could afford, with two months of bank statements and pay stubs. And then knowing that what we could afford, we could not afford, and scaling down to something more reasonable. Next step, find the house. But I've already covered that process.
Once the offer was accepted, then the paperwork began. The two months of bank statements and pay stubs? Need them again. Any non-usual deposits? Better be ready to explain where they came from. I had sold a few things, collected the money using Square. Time for a short-answer essay why the money was collected, and how this is not a usual occurance. I have a freind getting a much larger mortgage, that was advised not to deposit money, lest he have to get five statements explaining the source of the funds.
The mortgage application itself was a 39 page of redundancy, and federally-mandated warnings and advisories. Nice to know that the law prohibits mortgages given to known terrorists (there's a form for that). Truth in lending acknowledgement. An "intent to proceed with application" form (page 14). "Notice of right to receive appraisal form" (page 18). Acknowledgement of the "Flood Disclosure Protection Act of 1973" (page 23 - 25). "Mortgage Fraud Is Investigated By The FBI" form (page 36), with a 30 year prison sentence for lying on any of the forms (because one person lying on a $100K mortgage is FAR WORSE that a government that lies about its billions of wasteful spending). Multiple reporting of Social Security and driver license numbers. Then to be told that the one thing holding up the mortgage was that there wasn't a copy of the Social Security cards and drive licenses, because a government agency can't find that information for themselves.
So now we have the closing in five days. The lawnmower is still in the truck, soon to be joined by the latest purchase, an air compressor (need the nail gun feature, and it was on sale). Next: power tools (that will require a real commitment, to just one brand of rechargable battery).
Monday, June 11, 2012
FIRST PURCHASE. No closing yet, not for another 4-8 days, but the first purchase has been made: the lawnmower. Now, the move seems more official, more imminent, with the purchase of the first lawn implement with a motor. Like I am ready to join the war against Nature, ready to mete out the punishment on the grass for daring to grow over 3.75 inches tall.
After hours of research, I settled on the Husqvarna. I wish I could say that after a region-wide search, asking my friends, checking with Consumer Reports, and conducting all sorts of interviews and tests of actual products on a head-to-head comparison, that I found The Right Mower. The truth is, I saw what I wanted (self-propelled, 22" swath, easy wheel adjustment, 3 year warranty, folding handle). It had some good reviews (most were along the lines of "it's not a John Deere, but it doesn't suck too bad"). My mother had a Husqvarna (sewing machine). And it was on sale. More money for drywall. And when the closing is done, I'll be ready to join the Dance of the Lawn Mowers.
After hours of research, I settled on the Husqvarna. I wish I could say that after a region-wide search, asking my friends, checking with Consumer Reports, and conducting all sorts of interviews and tests of actual products on a head-to-head comparison, that I found The Right Mower. The truth is, I saw what I wanted (self-propelled, 22" swath, easy wheel adjustment, 3 year warranty, folding handle). It had some good reviews (most were along the lines of "it's not a John Deere, but it doesn't suck too bad"). My mother had a Husqvarna (sewing machine). And it was on sale. More money for drywall. And when the closing is done, I'll be ready to join the Dance of the Lawn Mowers.
So my father said that with a lawn as big as we will have, that I should buy a riding lawnmower. His place is smaller, he owns a John Deere tractor-type riding mower. Kind of a sweet ride, and if I drove it while wearing a fez I could fit into any Shriner parade. But I have will have too many trees to make a riding mower worthwhile (and more money for drywall). Once the closing is completed, I'll post the pictures of the flora.
George Carlin once spoke about a house is just a pile of stuff with a cover, and that you need to find a bigger place when you run out of room for your stuff. I think the opposite is true; now that we are moving to a bigger place, we need more stuff.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
SEVEN YEARS. We (and by "we", I mean "the Wife and I") have been looking for a house for seven years. And by "looking", I mean "watching the 'Real Estate Showcase' on the local cable system at 5 in the morning", "noticing where FOR SALE signs are posted and looking up the house on the Property Appraiser website", "watching HGTV all weekend long", and being on a realtor's mailing list for seven years (quite a collection of magnets, calendars, high school and university football schedules, and assorted knick-knacks, all with the stated or implied message: have you bought a house yet?").
We actually did put $1000 on a house in 2005. Or, at least on the promise to have a house built to the builder's specs (more or less, not guaranteed), for a total of $140,000. At the height of the housing bubble, and the roar of "you need to buy a house, like everyone else is doing". Thank goodness we took the contract to a lawyer, who advised us to run away as fast as possible, and get the money back (ever try to get money back from a developer? I've never pulled a rat out of the gullet of a snake, but I image the experience is the same). Seven years later, we saw that the house across the street from "that lot", built identical to the one that we almost built, was for sale. For $100,000. And it was over-priced. I've never seen so many houses where the yards had a slope towards the back of the property, because the septic tanks aren't low enough to create a flat back yard. The quality in the house wasn't much better. We owe that lawyer a thank-you card.
For most of these years, we have saved, paid bills, put ourselves in a better position to own a house, and watched as property values dropped by 40%. And the knick-knacks kept coming, more frequently, pleading "won't you please buy a house?" But 2012 became the right time to do it. Yeah, interest rates are still low, property values have bottomed out, but something else finally pushed us over the edge: Section 8. Our apartment owners finally became so desperate for tenants that he began to take Section 8 vouchers from tenants, and everything has slid downhill since. Call me old-fashioned, but water that puddles up after a hard rain in a low point in the parking lot (along with pesticides and all of the other waste that gets washed away in a rainstorm) should not be considered an impromptu water park for children, no matter how many parents are supervising. Dog owners that could walk their dog 300 feet to the edge of the nearby woods should not let their dogs evacuate in the grass next to a sidewalk (is the death penalty for the owners really too severe a punishment? I think not). Too many people knocking on our door, asking for cigarettes. ADVICE: when the landlord accepts Section 8, it is time to move. And get better door locks.
So here we are. The realtor remembered us (how many other people have been on the mailing list for seven years?) and found the house. And it was actually simple. Pre-approved on a mortgage (makes life much easier). Figured out what we must have (3/2 on at least 1/3 acre), what we wanted (washer/ dryer inside the house, no open floor plan, single story), and what the deal-breakers would be. Which sounds simple enough, but that requires negotiations. Not with the seller, but with the Wife (aka "the One That Must Be Obeyed"). I had to disappoint the OTMBO by telling her that I would not consider what she thought was "The One", because the perfect house had the washer/ dryer hookup in a utility room on the carport, outside the house and past the lanai (fancy way of saying "really small patio")
Once that is settled, the realtor provided a list of houses that fit the bill. And we found The One, that wasn't on her list. I found it on trulia.com, April 30, 10 PM. I had to wake up the Wife to show her, she said "that's nice, can I go back to sleep NOW?". Two days later, we walked through the front door, she said "wow!" (not in a teenager, "we're going to go to Grandma's house" "wow" sort of way). And the deal is (almost) done. After the multiple inspections, record searches, faxes and financial disclosures, we are thisclose to the keys. Just awaiting the closing. Then 248 SW Justin Glen will be ours.
Like any other 35 year old house, there are things that need to be done that will make it our own. Not like marking our territory like a dog, but paint, floor replacements, tree removal, and repairs to the barn-like shed. Because the house is not ours yet, no photos at this time. But I'll be keeping track of all of the trials and tribulations of home ownership, along with photographic evidence of the progress and / or regression.
Where are we? If you did a little work searching on line, you can find the house. So I won't ruin the search. And if you know who we are, then you won't need to ask that, either.
Let the adventure begin.
We actually did put $1000 on a house in 2005. Or, at least on the promise to have a house built to the builder's specs (more or less, not guaranteed), for a total of $140,000. At the height of the housing bubble, and the roar of "you need to buy a house, like everyone else is doing". Thank goodness we took the contract to a lawyer, who advised us to run away as fast as possible, and get the money back (ever try to get money back from a developer? I've never pulled a rat out of the gullet of a snake, but I image the experience is the same). Seven years later, we saw that the house across the street from "that lot", built identical to the one that we almost built, was for sale. For $100,000. And it was over-priced. I've never seen so many houses where the yards had a slope towards the back of the property, because the septic tanks aren't low enough to create a flat back yard. The quality in the house wasn't much better. We owe that lawyer a thank-you card.
For most of these years, we have saved, paid bills, put ourselves in a better position to own a house, and watched as property values dropped by 40%. And the knick-knacks kept coming, more frequently, pleading "won't you please buy a house?" But 2012 became the right time to do it. Yeah, interest rates are still low, property values have bottomed out, but something else finally pushed us over the edge: Section 8. Our apartment owners finally became so desperate for tenants that he began to take Section 8 vouchers from tenants, and everything has slid downhill since. Call me old-fashioned, but water that puddles up after a hard rain in a low point in the parking lot (along with pesticides and all of the other waste that gets washed away in a rainstorm) should not be considered an impromptu water park for children, no matter how many parents are supervising. Dog owners that could walk their dog 300 feet to the edge of the nearby woods should not let their dogs evacuate in the grass next to a sidewalk (is the death penalty for the owners really too severe a punishment? I think not). Too many people knocking on our door, asking for cigarettes. ADVICE: when the landlord accepts Section 8, it is time to move. And get better door locks.
So here we are. The realtor remembered us (how many other people have been on the mailing list for seven years?) and found the house. And it was actually simple. Pre-approved on a mortgage (makes life much easier). Figured out what we must have (3/2 on at least 1/3 acre), what we wanted (washer/ dryer inside the house, no open floor plan, single story), and what the deal-breakers would be. Which sounds simple enough, but that requires negotiations. Not with the seller, but with the Wife (aka "the One That Must Be Obeyed"). I had to disappoint the OTMBO by telling her that I would not consider what she thought was "The One", because the perfect house had the washer/ dryer hookup in a utility room on the carport, outside the house and past the lanai (fancy way of saying "really small patio")
Once that is settled, the realtor provided a list of houses that fit the bill. And we found The One, that wasn't on her list. I found it on trulia.com, April 30, 10 PM. I had to wake up the Wife to show her, she said "that's nice, can I go back to sleep NOW?". Two days later, we walked through the front door, she said "wow!" (not in a teenager, "we're going to go to Grandma's house" "wow" sort of way). And the deal is (almost) done. After the multiple inspections, record searches, faxes and financial disclosures, we are thisclose to the keys. Just awaiting the closing. Then 248 SW Justin Glen will be ours.
Like any other 35 year old house, there are things that need to be done that will make it our own. Not like marking our territory like a dog, but paint, floor replacements, tree removal, and repairs to the barn-like shed. Because the house is not ours yet, no photos at this time. But I'll be keeping track of all of the trials and tribulations of home ownership, along with photographic evidence of the progress and / or regression.
Where are we? If you did a little work searching on line, you can find the house. So I won't ruin the search. And if you know who we are, then you won't need to ask that, either.
Let the adventure begin.
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