Second Thoughts

Okay, I just read this and now I'm feeling really nervous about buying a home. If this economics writer for the New York Times can screw up, what does that portend for me and N???

Poking Around

I looked at three houses today in my neighborhood. One, which was going for all of $124,900, smelled so badly of cat piss, I could almost taste it on my tongue 3 hours later. I'm all for DIY renovations, but there's no way I could salvage that place. Not only was the stench unbearable (and I am totally a cat person), but the layout was all wrong: a tiny, disjointed, dark kitchen; a rabbit's warren of bedrooms upstairs, a deck only accessible by pushing out the bottom part of the window. But the good thing about looking at that place was meeting the neighbor from across the street, a kitchen renovator who handed me his card with a sweet smile. He and his wife lived across the street from the house for sale, next door to his sister. He also thought the house was a good deal, and said houses for that price rarely came for sale in the neighborhood.

One of the other houses I looked at was much nicer, but was also 3x the price of the first. This one was a two-unit with a single-family house feel. An elderly woman lived there, and the decor reflected the occupant. I could see past that; what I couldn't deal with was the vague sound of Interstate 295 that hummed in the distance. There were views from the upstairs window, but I didn't want a view of the highway, even if Back Cove and New Hampshire could also be seen. When I lived in New York, I spent 5 years within spitting distance of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, and to this day, the sound of highway noise stresses me out and reminds of waking up at 4am to the sound of massive semi-trucks downshifting in traffic outside my window.

Finally (well, not so finally, this was the first house I looked at, but I after I saw the other two I went back and looked at the first with a different mindset) I saw a two-unit on corner of one really nice quaint street and one sketchy not-so-great street. Besides the location, there isn't much to recommend it. The broker and I counted five layers of peeling linoleum flooring in the kitchen, there was fake wood parquet floors elsewhere, wood paneling in most of the rooms, vertical vinyl blinds, dropped ceilings, and on and on. But there was also decent light, some nice molding around the window frames, and the potential to create a really nice open concept kitchen/eating area. If we got a tenant for the downstairs, our mortgage would be eminently affordabel. But, to give you an idea of what we'd have to do to the place to get it rent-worth, here's the living room.

A Dream Deferred?

I did this preliminary mortgage application online with my bank, and the message I got said they didn't have any loans to suit my needs at this time. What does that mean? Am I screwed? I'm waiting to hear back from the loan officer I spoke with on the phone to see if he can give me any more insight.

Feeling Homey

Sadie is now 13 months old. Every day she amazes me with some new word or skill, some little something that she wasn't able to do just the day before. And with her growing independence, and the comfort of knowing that yes, she really is here to stay, I'm feeling freer to turn my attention to other things. Like--dare I use the word?--homemaking.

Right now, I am utterly obsessed with all things home-related. I dream of real estate. I'm constantly looking at blogs like apartmenttherapy.com, designspongeonline.com, and decor8blog.com. I love how spaces can make you feel a certain way--unencumbered, claustrophobic, relaxed, energized. It fascinates me to see people on those home design shows freak out and cry when their home makeovers are "revealed," because it proves just what power good design and a well-thought out space can have on the psyche. I've lived in numerous apartments through the years, in San Francisco, New York, Seville and Barcelona in Spain, in Prague, and now--in just three years--three different apartments in Portland, Maine. Some of them were special, some were just bit players in my life, some held starring roles. I wanted to dress each of them up to set the stage for the life I fancied myself living, but limited finances, uninvested roommates, and/or the knowledge that I wouldn't be staying long always seemed to conspire against me.

Well, no more! Now that N and I are settled in Portland for the foreseeable future, and now that we have a little youngun' we want to make a happy home for, I'm constantly thinking up ways to spruce up our rental apartment. And in the last few weeks, I've even been dreaming about buying something. We are madly in love with our neighborhood, the East End. Our current apartment sits across the street from an Olmstead-designed park that runs downhill to Casco Bay. We have park and water views from our bay windows. We can walk to an excellent coffee shop, a gourmet food shop, a down-n-dirty deli, three great restaurants, a playground, a dock, and a beach. Oh, and my work is a 10-minute bike ride away (45 minutes by foot). Could I ask for anything more?

Unfortunately, we're not the only people who know how great the neighborhood is. Homes here will cost you a pretty penny. Don't get me started on how some of them, that are now in the $350,000 range, were selling for closer to $100k in 1998. I know, because I've checked the tax assessor's website. So in order to get a toehold in the neighborhood, N and I have begun to think about buying a multi-unit. A place where the mortgage would be affordable with the help of a tenant. I'm on the hunt.