Since my divorce in 1997, I've lived in a townhouse apartment. I love it here. I like that every winter, when a mouse finds it's way into my apartment from the jungle behind my house, all I have to do is call my landlord. Within hours, the maintenance man shows up with a nifty electrical mouse trap. My only job is to check to see if the light is on. If the light is on, it means we have successfully caught the mouse. Then, I make another phone call and my maintenance man comes back out and disposes of the mouse for me. It's all very clean and princess-like from my end. This is just one of the many things I like about living here. There are no lawns to be mowed, flowers to be planted, toilets to repair, etc. No doubt, my life here is easy.
Yet, I thought about my son who is ten and all of the benefits of owning a home for both of us and decided that it's time to move on to bigger and better things.
I've decided to purchase a house.
At the moment, everything feels very surreal and I feel like an adult for perhaps the first time in my adult life. I was approved for a home loan this past Tuesday. On Wednesday, I called my realtor. By Thursday, we looked at several different houses and I found one that I really loved.
Yesterday, she called to tell me that it had a contract on it already and so we went to look at four other houses that I had picked out. I fell in love with the last one we saw, which was also the very first one I bookmarked online several weeks ago when I was just toying with the idea of becoming a homeowner.
Last night, my realtor and I made an offer. Now, I just wait to see if they accept it or what they come back with. I feel like I am standing still while everything else around me is moving at warp speed. I told my realtor last night that I kind of went about this half-heartedly. My line of thinking was basically, "What the hell, I'll do it."
Honestly, I didn't think I would get approved (my credit history isn't the greatest in the world but it turns out it isn't as bad as I thought it was either) or figured it would take me months to find something I really love. A week later, here I am, waiting for my phone to ring.
On a related note, here's a helpful hint for those who may be selling their homes: If you know a realtor is going to be showing your home at a certain time and you decide to be there (which isn't the brightest idea in the world. Viewing someone's home while they are there is like attending a funeral), don't stand in the kitchen making yourself a sandwich. No matter how nice or quaint your home might be, the buyer will feel uncomfortable and will not really look at your home. And if the buyer does take a peek in the kitchen, don't immediately start whistling to yourself as you spread the mayo on your sandwich. Go take a walk outside or go sit in your car.
Self-Made Man 