Don't read the fine print
I am writing this in honor of Lee and Shua, both of whom have recently taken residence in a brand-spanking new house (well, to them it's new!). Lee has entered the thrill that comes with such a grandiose sense of ownership.
And, so, I give you the greatest (and worst) things about home ownership. *
(*And might I add here that I believe that I am credible enough to voice these ideas....Ken and I are currently living in our third purchased home in five years of marriage....yikes!....all due to job transfers. We are well-acquainted with the process, to say the least.)
1. House hunting is the most confusing task on the face of the planet. You start out early in the morning all organized, with a digital camera, pro-con chart, and notepad in hand. By the end of a full day with your realtor of choice, you are drooling incessantly and babbling like an idiot. You vaguely recall what county in which you were house hunting, but all other details have left the building.
2. Caution: Rooms without furniture are much smaller than they appear.
3. You need a dictionary with you when you go and talk to the mortgage brokers. Really, all you want to know is what the current lending rate is for that day. They, on the other hand, give you so many choices, options, and "oh, by the way's" that you really begin to itch for a Cliffs' Notes version of the entire thing.
4. If you are selling your current home at the same time as you're searching for another, you can never, ever seem to line up the time slots so that people can come in and view your home while you're out looking at your prospective choices. I think it's actually the 5th Law of Thermodynamics or something....physically impossible.
5. Speaking of the above, as well, no one will want to come view your home when it's 10am, your hair is perfect, your car has a full tank of gas, and your home is spotless. You get the call from the realtor on Monday nights at 5:30pm, chili splattering all over your stovetop, pets running awry. (We had a realtor who despised cats, and so I would put both cats in my car every time I had to leave for a showing. Two hungry cats + heavy city traffic + a Honda Civic with no way to separate the felines = pure mayhem and 1,342 cat scratches.)
6. When you go back to look at a house the second time, suddenly you realize that you didn't see those hairline cracks around the ceiling which backs up to the commode upstairs....or the artillery shed in the backyard with coon dogs spray painted on the side....or the various missing drawer handles or cabinet knobs. "It's a fixer upper," you might say. Did you ever see "The Money Pit?"
7. On closing day, you're so giddy you can barely eat. You expect to arrive at the attorney's office and see chorus girls, balloons, and the mayor all there to congratulate you. Instead, you walk into a room full of cigarette smoke, with a desk in the corner housing a lady faintly resembling a possible secretary. She leads you lazily back to the conference room where you meet the head guy himself, who is either 1) unethically young and spry, with teeth so unnatural white that you are scared, or 2) unsettlingly old and absentminded. You start to worry that you will sign someone else's mortgage.
8. You sit down and begin to sign the encyclopedia before you of legal documents. You shield your skimming eye from the fine print, content to trust this man whom you've never met, all the while feeling the smiling eyeballs of your realtor next to you burning into you as you pause for a second before each John Hancock. You decide to sit there for a second and relish it....these people are counting on you for their paychecks that day. You experience a short-lived, sick-minded period of power, and your head begins to grow.
9. You leave the office with keys in hand, and enter your new abode for the first time as its owner. You have an agenda of things to repair and clean, but you find yourself instead sitting around with 30 friends eating pizza and watching your television set on the floor. Ahh, freedom.
10. You wake up the next morning, either on the bare floor or on a mattress with a sleeping bag as a blanket. It hits you. It's yours....all yours. Uh-oh. Now what?
(In all seriousness, I truly hope this doesn't dissuade any of you pre-house-owners from delving in one day. It's great, it really is. Really. I just like to try and make your day a little funnier.)
And, so, I give you the greatest (and worst) things about home ownership. *
(*And might I add here that I believe that I am credible enough to voice these ideas....Ken and I are currently living in our third purchased home in five years of marriage....yikes!....all due to job transfers. We are well-acquainted with the process, to say the least.)
1. House hunting is the most confusing task on the face of the planet. You start out early in the morning all organized, with a digital camera, pro-con chart, and notepad in hand. By the end of a full day with your realtor of choice, you are drooling incessantly and babbling like an idiot. You vaguely recall what county in which you were house hunting, but all other details have left the building.
2. Caution: Rooms without furniture are much smaller than they appear.
3. You need a dictionary with you when you go and talk to the mortgage brokers. Really, all you want to know is what the current lending rate is for that day. They, on the other hand, give you so many choices, options, and "oh, by the way's" that you really begin to itch for a Cliffs' Notes version of the entire thing.
4. If you are selling your current home at the same time as you're searching for another, you can never, ever seem to line up the time slots so that people can come in and view your home while you're out looking at your prospective choices. I think it's actually the 5th Law of Thermodynamics or something....physically impossible.
5. Speaking of the above, as well, no one will want to come view your home when it's 10am, your hair is perfect, your car has a full tank of gas, and your home is spotless. You get the call from the realtor on Monday nights at 5:30pm, chili splattering all over your stovetop, pets running awry. (We had a realtor who despised cats, and so I would put both cats in my car every time I had to leave for a showing. Two hungry cats + heavy city traffic + a Honda Civic with no way to separate the felines = pure mayhem and 1,342 cat scratches.)
6. When you go back to look at a house the second time, suddenly you realize that you didn't see those hairline cracks around the ceiling which backs up to the commode upstairs....or the artillery shed in the backyard with coon dogs spray painted on the side....or the various missing drawer handles or cabinet knobs. "It's a fixer upper," you might say. Did you ever see "The Money Pit?"
7. On closing day, you're so giddy you can barely eat. You expect to arrive at the attorney's office and see chorus girls, balloons, and the mayor all there to congratulate you. Instead, you walk into a room full of cigarette smoke, with a desk in the corner housing a lady faintly resembling a possible secretary. She leads you lazily back to the conference room where you meet the head guy himself, who is either 1) unethically young and spry, with teeth so unnatural white that you are scared, or 2) unsettlingly old and absentminded. You start to worry that you will sign someone else's mortgage.
8. You sit down and begin to sign the encyclopedia before you of legal documents. You shield your skimming eye from the fine print, content to trust this man whom you've never met, all the while feeling the smiling eyeballs of your realtor next to you burning into you as you pause for a second before each John Hancock. You decide to sit there for a second and relish it....these people are counting on you for their paychecks that day. You experience a short-lived, sick-minded period of power, and your head begins to grow.
9. You leave the office with keys in hand, and enter your new abode for the first time as its owner. You have an agenda of things to repair and clean, but you find yourself instead sitting around with 30 friends eating pizza and watching your television set on the floor. Ahh, freedom.
10. You wake up the next morning, either on the bare floor or on a mattress with a sleeping bag as a blanket. It hits you. It's yours....all yours. Uh-oh. Now what?
(In all seriousness, I truly hope this doesn't dissuade any of you pre-house-owners from delving in one day. It's great, it really is. Really. I just like to try and make your day a little funnier.)
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