Even though our house is pretty great, it just doesn't make sense for us to live in South Jersey anymore especially when JP's job is 45 miles away. We moved from Delaware to this house in NJ because we wanted it to be a hub for family and friends and, sadly, that didn't work out. Meanwhile, he's commuting an hour each way for no real reason. It's just time to go.
Which means we have to look for a new house.
The first time you meet up with your realtor and set out to look at some houses, it's very fun. You're excited, filled with
The second time you meet up with your realtor - because all of the houses you saw the first time were terrible - a wee bit of apprehension will have set in. You're slightly suspicious of basically everything in every room of every house. But still, the eagerness is there. Today might be the day you find your dream home!
By the third+ time you meet up with your realtor you are a shell of the person you used to be. You're angry, disgusted, grossed out by how some people actually choose to live. With every house you go into you are getting an intimate and oftentimes terrifying peek into the inner sanctums of faceless
We've been out with our real estate agent for the past three weekends. Lucky for us, our agent is a very good fit and is not in any way trying to make a quick sale so she can score her commission. She wants to make sure we're really getting the house we want and that no one is trying to scam. This is very important. If you aren't feeling it with your agent and they don't seem to have your back, get a new one. A good rule of thumb when it comes to agents: if he/she would also be perfectly suited to sell used cars, it's probably a good idea to find someone else.
I fell in serious like with a house we saw early on. I'll call it the Black & White House. Couldn't stop thinking about it. JP said if I really want it, we'll buy it. Oh, by the way, this too, is very important. If your spouse/significant other is not letting you buy the house you want, it's probably a good idea to find someone else.
I kid, I kid.
So I seriously liked the Black & White House. (I stop short of saying that I loved the house because it's a rare thing to find a house in which you love everything about it.) We went back for a second look with the intention of then putting in an offer for it. Yay! Oh, joy of joys! No more house shopping! Thank you, Jesus.
We went through the house, fine tooth-combed it. "Yes, this will work," over and over again. Then back up the stairs into the living room for one final look before leaving.
Wait. Is the living room floor...bouncing? JP did a slight up and down bounce. Everything in the room shook. Stuff wanted to fall off the shelves. He bounced again. Same thing.
Oh my God, the living room floor has no support. Like, in a really bad way.
We all three raced back downstairs to inspect the ceiling below the living room. Yup, no support. The fix would require major renovation and no one who is close to being in their right mind buys a house that needs major renovation unless the price reflects that, which it did not.
Real estate agent has that you'd-be-an-idiot-to-buy-this-one look on her face.
So much for the Black & White House.
Then there was the Train House. Gorgeous place. The owners had a massive dining room set in the room that should have been the living room, but no big deal. Kitchen straight out of House Beautiful. But the market in Delaware is crazy hot right now...why hasn't this house been snatched up? Hmmm.
JP and I go outside on the wonderful deck. OK, I'm having visions of balmy night barbecues dancing in my head. I ask if those are train tracks right there? No, JP says laughingly to me. They wouldn't be that close to the house, he says.
Except they were.
And while we were out there dreaming of barbecues, we suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of a freight train (!) approaching.
It passes by - or should I say through - the backyard. I'm talking 30-40 feet from the back deck.
Now I'm cracking up, hard. Screaming to JP over the din of the train, "I said do you want a hamburger or hot dog?". My visions of idyllic backyard get-togethers squashed and flattened...like a penny on a railroad track. š The irony is that I love trains. I was the senior editor of an historical train publication for a lot of years. That house might be perfect for me but I'm not sure about being able to sleep through trains passing by in the middle of the night. And what if it derails?!
This past weekend we looked at a house that was straight out of the 1960s. Literally that's how old the shag carpeting was. It seemed to be an estate situation. Still, you go through the house with a critical eye, seeing if you can update it without too much expense. Except for the part when we were in the basement and I saw on the shelf what appeared to be rat poison. Is this rat poison, I asked. Everyone concurred that it was. Then I was back upstairs looking in a closet with appeared to have an attic fan in it. Attic fans are not usually in closets so I asked JP to take a look and confirm that it was a fan.
"Yes, that's definitely an attic fan. With about seven dead mice in it."
Oh my God, I could not get out of there fast enough.
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| Photo Credit: Mark Gstohl |
We put in our offer.
Agent calls to say - wait for it - they don't want to close until the new year.
Wait, what? It's April.
But we can move in before that in a lease/purchase kinda way. Okay, that might work.
Next day, agent calls again. Apparently there is a "large crack" in the house that they are not fixing, just painting over.
You cannot make this up. Their contractor looked at it and said it was "no big deal". I'm sorry but if your house has a large crack in it, you need a structural engineer to take a peek, not a general contractor.
Agent advises to run, run like the wind. Offer withdrawn.
So here we are. Looks like we'll be going out again this weekend to look at more houses.
I, um, can't wait.
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