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| October 2014 |
We’re approaching the one year marker when we “met” our house. Looking back through our old gchats, I got lost over my lunch break, reliving the sporadic rollercoaster ride that was selling, moving, buying, and moving again. This time last year, we were cozily living in a one bedroom apartment, our stuff crammed into a storage shed and garage, a mattress squeezed into a tiny bedroom, and boxes were our decor.
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| Cleaning out the apartment |
The ranch had been sold, a harrowing process with an agent definitely not looking out for our interests. We had walked away from a brick ranch that needed more repair than we could handle. We were tired but determined to move on. The apartment was nice, a good price, and life was simpler, too. Granted, you couldn’t watch TV while laundry or dishes were being washed and our upstairs neighbors had some interesting arguments, but overall, it felt a bit like a vacation. Of course, there weren’t any vacation-like things to do, especially in November (unless you count lying on the couch). But after months and months of constantly keeping a house in perfect “show” condition, looking after less than 900 square feet was … kinda nice.
Not that we wanted this to be long-term. The kitchen could only contain essential dishes, and neither of us had our own space, something we greatly value. The bedroom closet took some discipline and creativity to keep functional. Our first-floor apartment had two windows: one in the bedroom under the street light and one in the back looking out at the tree line. It was claustrophobic. Er, cozy.
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| In our preferred district, big, dated ... pink |
Anyway, we weren’t suffering, but this definitely wasn’t a long-term solution. We had taken a three-month lease with the hopes we’d find our new home within those 90 days, but as November wore on and the listings became scarce, we realized it we might have to settle in for the winter. Nothing was popping up in our preferred district and neighborhood. We even revisited some previous write offs (at open houses) that lingered in our neighborhoods, trying to make ourselves say yes. I was more willing on them than Mike, but I also did not have the true conviction to push the matter. He is stubborn, but I also know if I truly want/love something and its in his power to get it, he will do it. This is not something to be misused, whether it’s a house, car, pony, jewelry, etc.
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| A house I tried to get Mike to like (though I wish it had trees) |
We started expanding our options again, going to open houses every weekend, and trying out some realtors. After our experience selling the first house, we were ready to venture on our own, but frankly, you cannot get into a listed house without an agent (seller or buyer) unless it’s a FSBO. When looking at the winter pickings, it was hard to shake off the ghosts of houses past, those that went under contract as we watched, helpless, stuck with our own “stale” listing. In that market, no one would take our offer contingent on our house selling (if it was not already pending). Looking at houses was just a continuation of the long, toe-crunching dance we had been trudging through since April. If I liked it, Mike didn’t (reasons could be lot size, kitchen, neighborhood, not feeling the homey vibe). If Mike liked it, I didn’t like the price or I thought it was too big. Or, we both couldn’t see ourselves in it.
Then it happened. A home bigger than we wanted with only a two-car garage and no walkout basement (i.e. no easy boat storage), on a smaller lot, and farther south than we wanted for our commute. Oh yes, and more than I wanted to spend. Even looking over our old emails and chats, it still kind of amazes me.
Nov. 15, 2013
Mike: i'd like to get into that house at some time, just to see what our top end would get us
ya know?
not saying we'd buy it but that might be an area or type of house (like pac meadows) that we could update and live in for 15-25 years
plus its literally a block from the lake
Over gchat, Mike sent me a link to the listing. I remember thinking “huge, dated, expensive, but I kind of dig it.” Mostly, I was nervous, because I could tell Mike was smittened. The last time he’d been like this was the brick ranch. My stomach was still recovering from that adventure. But I agreed to go see it along with a couple of others on my list, because I figured it would prove my point: too much house and too much money. He’d shot down another two-story, in our #1 district, for being too big. This house was the same size but older and in a smaller yard. Yeah, I totally had this handled. Sometimes you have to humor your man.
Riiiiiight.
We had the showing scheduled over the weekend, but I took a detour on the drive home to catch a sneak peek. The house sits on a hill and seems to loom over its downhill neighbor. I crept slowly through the circle, doing the oh-so-obvious driveby. In the fading light, it looked huge and a bit grandiose … but I was also charmed. “Too big, too much,” I muttered and drove off.
That weekend, we met up with an agent who was willing to show us houses without forcing a contract for the next three months and had a chummy manner about her. We saw an updated tri-level on a corner lot that backed to the park … which connected to railroad tracks passing through a large intersection. I knew going in tracks would be a deal breaker, but I was using the house as an example of a good, smaller home and, of course, examples of updates we could do in other dated houses.
Then we were off another mile or two down the road to The Neighborhood With Big Bedrooms and Big Houses. Oh dear. Mike was practically bouncing. “It’s big, like the blue one you didn’t like,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to look.” We’re just seeing what we could get at the top of our designated budget. Just to see. Purely educational.
Uh-huh. It’s funny, when we look at old walk through pictures and video, it amazes us just how dated the house looked. We saw it then, sure, but we were looking past the wallpaper, old carpet, and remaining furniture. Both of us were inserting ourselves into the walls. Looking back, I think it made us overlook a few things, but I think there is definitely truth to that feeling of home. On HGTV, I’d get annoyed with buyers who rejected perfectly good homes because they just weren’t “feeling it”; Mike would do the same thing. But now I was getting it.
Walking through the house was a weird mix of dread and excitement. Dread, because I knew Mike was hooked, excitement because I was seeing and feeling “it” too, and dread again, because omg I kinda want this house but omg I want a cheaper mortgage! As we went through the house, I kept reminding Mike of the small lot, the lack of boat storage, and, oh yes, we might not fit into the neighborhood.
We were reluctant to leave, and I don’t really remember what happened the rest of the weekend. Our conversations always circled back to the house by the lake. I brought up all the reasons it wasn’t right, Mike wouldn’t argue, though he sometimes would counter with positives (lake, 25-year home as opposed to a 10-15 year, great neighborhood, has the library, layout, etc.). Mostly, he tried to be quiet about it and let me argue with myself (ha!), but sometimes his true feelings would bubble over, my stomach would flip, and I would get all twisted up. And then I would get mad at myself, because I was supposed to be rational, calm, and pragmatic about this very big decision.
Monday after we saw the house, our old gchat conversation was filled with Thanksgiving travel plans, health insurance between our employers, rehashing my job interview from the previous week and what that might do to our house hunt, and, of course, comparables to the lake house and how we could possibly get it down to a number Emily might approve. Digging through the real estate sites and county assessor revealed the current list price was optimistic but not out of line. Dang.
It’s funny looking back at the frenzy. I had made the decision to buy before I realized it, or maybe it’s just how chat conversations appear when you’re not looking at the combination of digital and in-person conversations. In the middle of comparing health insurance premiums, deductibles, stop loss, there were $/sq foot comparisons, links to other homes to see, and references to the current mortgage rate. I even pulled up the HoA covenants. Yes, I often tried to frame the information in a negative light, but would I have gone through this effort if I was firmly in the no camp?
Nope.
I wonder if Mike knew that or not. We certainly had one heck of a crash course in marital decision making.
Emily: grumble
where are your thoughts on [lake house]?
Mike: 8
and CH 7
'mystery houses in CH' 7
Emily: lol
2 mystery houses we haven't seen, though one is likely a version of your parents' house
Mike: heh
i actually meant the mystery house we dont even know about 
shoot and i guess i would put rodgers ridge mystery houses at an 8 as well
Emily: houses that don't exist :-p
Mike: yah exactly
Emily: oh boy
Mike: [lake house] is prob getting an extra point because it actually exists
A little further on:
Emily: :-p
I want the house, but I don't know if I want [lake neighborhood] or that big of a mortgage
I'm losing hope on finding what we want in Elkhorn, tho
Mike: i kind of am too
losing hope
unless rogers miraculously shows up
i dont think CH can beat [lake neighborhood] in terms of quality of home
Emily: which i doubt
agreed
Mike: CH does beat it in terms of school (maybey) and likely community
Emily: yep
Mike: however [lake neighborhood] is on a circle and next to three parks
including lake
Painting walls ahead of time:
Emily: IF we bought lake house, we'd definitely do a darker wall color in the bedroom. shrink it dow
*down
Mike: I think we might want to decide if we are buying it first :p
Emily: yeah, the thought just popped in
Mike: Makes sense though
Emily: on the desk and just did a sweep through on Zillow and Prudential. Looking sparse out there
I could capitalize IF as much as I wanted, but let’s be honest here, I was already painting the walls. That should be a sure sign. By Tuesday, we were using the Waze app to monitor commute times from the house to our work. There was a potential FSBO coming up in our preferred neighborhood, but a glance on the assessor’s site and a drive by told us it was likely going to too similar to Mike’s parents house (a nice house, actually, but then we’d always be comparing everything). The FSBO had come to us through a letter campaign I had done in the neighborhood, hoping to catch someone that was toying with the idea of selling (and keeping realtors out of the deal). Being so close to stables and in the top school district still beckoned to us, even as we felt the lake lapping over our daydreams.
By Tuesday, we were coordinating a showing with Mike’s parents. Regarding talking to his mother about seeing the house:
Mike: i dont think she knows that [lake house] is down the street from their house
kinda waiting for her to figure that out 
can i make the statement 'we are seriously thinking about making an offer'
?
We saw the house with his parents, though it was dark. Mike’s dad was all “buy it!” while his mother, as her usual strategy, gave two opinions (for/against) in an effort to be balanced. (Spoiler: She later told us she hoped we would buy it.) This is where my “feeling” memories and looking at gchat and emails gets a bit fuzzy. I remember the tight stomach during the day and evenings, when I would troll Zillow and Prudential trying to find something else to capture our attention. I was yes, then I was no, then yes but with lots of caveats. It feels like this lasted for weeks, but that’s not possible, looking at our haphazardly documented timeline.
By Wednesday, we were discussing offer strategies. And we were going to walk through the neighborhood and then go to happy hour. I was saying yes, but fighting it every step of the way. Why? Looking back why did I have to do this? What did I gain? Sometimes I wonder if that internal fight made me want the house more.
Also on that Wednesday, I got a job offer, a step up in my career. This was a crucial step in getting me to say yes, since I would be more comfortable with the final sale price, and I’m sure it contributed to the good vibes that evening. I was off work and in the neighborhood about 30 minutes before Mike, so I went snooping around. In the dusk, I met a mother who was sealing cracks in the driveway and chatted with her. When Mike arrived in the park, we strolled nonchalantly by the house and then continued on to the lake. It was getting cold, melted snow was starting to freeze over. I was shivering, but it could have been the cold, low blood sugar, or excitement.
We continued the conversation of pros and cons at a neighborhood restaurant. Over a glass of cabernet, I was always just a breath away from saying a firm, resounding yes. If I said yes, then Mike would counter, testing me, and then I would back off or bring in some caveats. I would say yes, get excited, and then scared. Mike knew how close I was and could have nudged me over, but he respected me enough to wait for me to come to the decision on my own. I think I kept trying to shift the burden to him and he refused to accept it. So, we came away that night so close, but we also had a plan.
The next day, Mike pulled utility bill history on the house, I got new estimates from our two competing lenders, we crunched numbers, and I asked the banks how my new job would affect things. They weren’t concerned, if closing happened before the switch (this later turned out not to be true), but there would have been an issue if my salary had increased dramatically. We also asked about closing timelines.
Mike: interesting comments from the banks
on the jobs
Emily: yeah, basically 2 weeks vs 4 weeks
so, it'd probably be simplest, IF we wanted lake house, to close by Jan. 3
Mike: agreed
spooky
merry xmas 
i bought you a house
and you say
ditto
Notice how I’m still using that big IF? Ha. We also had a good laugh over those affordability calculators on the web that claimed we could safely afford at $410k house. Yeah, no. Not even close, dudes.
I turned the tables on Mike.
Emily: so you never answered: gut feeling on Pasadena
Mike: maybe yes?
eek
Emily: lol
why is this so hard for us? not like it's one of the biggest decisions of your life or has huge financial ramifications
Mike: MY LIFE?
Emily: our lifes
*lives
wow
i can write
rite
Mike: uh huh
so the only thing i can think of when i see this picture is a fat grumpy cat
Emily:
lmao
Mike, the Master of Distraction.
It was an icy commute home. This must have been the night I couldn’t fall asleep. Mike went to bed while I crouched over my laptop, combing the Internet for clues of what I should do. I was fully in obsessive mode, the last phase of my decision making cycle. This happens whether it’s buying a car, laptop … or house. Of course, every feeling was amplified when it came to a house. Kind of a big deal. Mortgages are, frankly, terrifying.
In the frenzied, exhausted-but-hyped daze, I remembered a drizzly Sunday afternoon 2-3 years ago. We were casually going to open houses, scouting out our next neighborhood. A blue, two-story home peered behind a huge, dripping tree, it’s white trim and large front porch bright in the gloom. Warm light spilled from the front windows, the red front door ajar, welcoming us in.
We stepped through the front hall, and I remember “warm” and “home” filling me. The entry hall and staircase were in the center of the house, with a dining room to the right and parlor/living room to the left. The walls were deep colors, maroons and blues, the wood trim shiny and clean. A voice greeted us from the living room. A small, older woman with fluffed up, pale hair said, “Hello! Excuse me for not getting up. I tweaked my back. But please have a look around, there are cookies in the kitchen, just baked, and let me know if you have any questions.” She became the Cookie Lady, and the house became the Cookie Lady House.
The house was beautiful. Hardwood through most of the main floor, french doors between the front living room and the cozier living room that joined the kitchen and eating area along the back of the house. Although the furnishings and wallpaper weren’t exactly contemporary, they felt homey. The kitchen countertops were granite, the appliances stainless steel, but the cabinets were original. The house wasn’t truly “updated”, but neither was it outdated. It had been taken care of and you could imagine extended family walking in at any moment. We munched on chocolate chip cookies, the old open house trick working on our senses. I don’t actually remember details of the upstairs, just the downstairs and soggy backyard covered in massive trees. But I remember Mike and I reluctantly leaving and wishing we could buy it right then and there.
We watched the house go under contract and sell. As our casual house looking slowly turned into house hunting, the Cookie Lady House followed us around, whispering in the back of our mind. Sometimes the house would come up in conversations, a brief reference here or there, but mostly it existed in the subconscious. We had a layout and vibe in our minds and would often come close, but the layout would only be almost there or something, though we couldn’t pinpoint it, would be missing.
On that cold, icy night in November, it suddenly hit me. The house near the lake was the next Cookie Lady House. The style on the outside wasn’t the same (no porch, for one) and it certainly lacked hardwood throughout and updates in the kitchen, but the layout was very similar and, more importantly, the feeling we had of coming home and being reluctant to leave.
I was almost sick with giddiness. I wanted to run into the bedroom and pounce on Mike, wake him up, and shout, “Let’s buy it!” But he had been feeling sick and gone to bed early. Instead, I hunted around in our boxes until I found a stack of notecards and wrote Let’s buy Pasadena. I cut it out and pasted it to a blue background. Then I took it into the bathroom, where my Lego Darth Vader alarm clock sat on the mirror ledge. I slipped the card under Vader’s arms, took a Tylenol P.M., and then quietly got into bed, a grin on my face.
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