I have been trying to avoid talking about the house I am trying to buy too much because I haven't wanted to discuss it until it's mine, gloriously mine.
Here's something to realize when you consider this momentous occasion in my life; I have wanted to own my own home since I was, I don't know, like, 11. I understood, of course, that I would have to live in an apartment first so when I was 14 and started planning out how I would survive on whichever wage I found in the Pennysaver (we didn't get the newspaper.)and allotting an allowance for things like clothes and electricity, I knew it would be awhile before I could afford a house. No one graduates from High School and buys a house (Except Joe, who had a settlement and he bought it for his mom. He lives in an apartment). But a house! How lovely it would be.
Little did I know how hard it would be, to survive on the wages at Sea World with my then boyfriend in a 600 square foot apartment with two cats, a snake, and an ant problem. We moved out, up, and eventually on, but I still dreamed of a house. I even looked at some. Beautiful 5 bedroom homes with granite countertops and fireplaces for $250,000. A steal then. But still I didn't have it despite having a much better paying job. Those homes were going for 6 or 7 hundred thousand last I checked although they have certainly come down recently.
That was nearly 10 years ago. I have held onto my dream. I have saved. I have hoped, I have moved to Reno with the knowledge that here, more likely than in San Diego, I could finally reach my goal.
In February, I put in an offer on a lovely home. It was much like the houses I toured back in Santee. 4 bedrooms. Huge kitchen. A garage. Double oven. And it was ready to move in. And a steal at 205. You can't get a ramshackle fixer in SD for that. Then I lost my job. But the bank wasn't in a hurry, and at that point, the longer they took, the better for me. By the time they decided, I hoped, I would have another job and be able to pick up where I left off.
I got another job, but decided to pull out of the deal because the house was so far away. About 45 minutes each way and with gas prices they way they are, I didn't think it was smart to live so far out of town. Then I learned that due to my new, lower wage, I couldn't afford the house after all.
Not one to sit on my laurels, I sent my realtor a list of homes I COULD afford. The first one we looked at, we think may have doubled as a brothel. Descriptions of that one are better left to in person because it's the kind of wide eyed, hand gesturing story that I love to tell. The owner of the home was a corporation. It was a "corporate retreat". With red walls, shag carpet and a bidet that overlooked the bedroom.
The second house, was it. fixer. With potential. The cheapest house on the market but still better than the brothel. Two doors down from a skate park. The garage had been converted into what I plan on having as my craft room. a craft room. My loom and wheels wouldn't have to live in the living room. The sewing machine wouldn't have to exist on the dining room table. My yarn wouldn't take over my office. I would have an office AND a guest room. Sure, it needs work, but, it could be mine. I could even have that pretty aqua shaggy carpet that Seester and I got to feel a Home Depot.(eventually. or maybe "wood" floors!)
Baby could move back onto her regular living quarters instead of the cramped cage she has now.
We asked for repairs and an extension. I gave them my earnest money. The repairs would be rolled into my loan and cover some broken windows, electrical work, plumbing, tear down the not-permitted and dangerous patio cover, some HVAC stuff, and a new roof. (damn that new roof) The first closing date was to be the 15th of May. That got stretched to the 20th. Then we asked for another extension. To the 11th of June and the seller balked. And threatened to keep my earnest money.
And this is where we are. The seller doesn't want to authorize the repairs because they are concerned that my loan will fall through and there will be a lien on the property. FHA won't release the loan until the repairs are ordered. So I am at a standstill. And have been wandering around with a cloud over my head for about a week.
I spoke to my realtor this morning and he assured me that he was doing everything in his power to save it. About ten minutes later, the cloud lifted and suddenly, the faith that I knew was there, that feeling of well being you get when you know in your heart that everything is going to be okay reappeared. I didn't know if it was a hormone shift (hey, I'm a woman) or something good happened. There's nothing like the Fish DC to cheer me up. When they get Hermit crabs in there, I may just stay.
When Joe called about an hour later, I was in a much better mood. And The news was better. Each time I have spoken to him today, the news has been better. And for that I am grateful.
I don't know what is going to happen. Best case, I get my house. And while it will be tight and it won't be glamourous, it will be mine. I will finally get to bring my stuff out of storage, i'll have my double headed shower (oh yeah. it's already there) I'll be able to tend to my fruit trees and play in my yard. Worst case, plan B. I move in with my derby wife and have a derby posse because another derby girl lives next door to her. This won't help to dispel the rumors that we somehow form some sort of iron clad Derby Voltron, but it will make life a bit cheaper for the both of us. And I think we would have fun living together. Either way, I am in a good situation.
I still want the house. But excepting positive thinking, it's out of my hands. I'm just glad my attitude got better. I was tired of the stress.