I'm realistic about the kinds of houses we can afford in the part of the country we have decided to inhabit. Really, I am. The housing market there has not only rebounded, it is already back to the absolute insanity of the bubble days prior to 2007. We get a nightly email digest of house listings, mostly very small ranch houses built in the 1960s or 1970s on decent sized lots, or (also small) flimsy tri-level houses built in the 1980s or 1990s over much less earth. These tiny, often ugly places cost anywhere from forty thousand to a hundred thousand (plus) more than what I paid for my Park, and within two days of our first look at any one house, it is gone to "sale pending" or even more offensive "taking backup offers." Really? Two thirds of the houses can demand prospective buyers have to battle it out to win the favor of the sellers? It's brutal out there. We haven't gotten our hearts set on anything, because we know by the time we are financially in a position to make an offer, absolutely none of the ones we see now will be left for sale.
I'm working now to quash all of my hopes and dreams about moving into a beautiful home with an open floor plan and a lovely level yard for Murray to tear up with his wheels. The next house is going to be cramped, need a lot of major renovations, and with my luck, it's probably going to smell. The market is way overpriced, and it's not going to get better for buyers anytime soon. If I want to be there, I have to be realistic about the inventory (very tight) and cost (over my current budget). But honestly, I've spent the last decade and a half fantasizing about taking a very ugly duckling and transforming it into a beautiful swan. Now is the time to put up or shut up. If I have the chops to remodel a house with the big dogs, I have to prove it now. I will certainly have the opportunity.
Spending all of my time on real estate sites has been dangerous. Every once in a while I take off all the limits on price or square footage, and just look at everything I can't afford. Some places make me laugh, when one of those 50s ranches that hasn't been updated in 30 years is going for half a million bucks, just because it's located inside the city limits of a particular municipality. I also daydream a little, about what I would buy if one of those lottery tickets wasn't just expensive trash. I have been focused on a beautiful farm near a small county airport. It is one of the few places I've seen that has stayed on the market for weeks. But then, the sellers are asking almost two million dollars for it. Today I followed up on a hunch and Googled it. Turns out my hunch was correct, and this place isn't merely a farm house. It looked like a place that hosted weddings, and indeed, it is just that. That kind of changes my daydream a little bit. If I want to pretend I'm going to win the lottery and buy this farm, I might want to imagine running a wedding business at the same time. Hm. That's a lot more than my dream of a large organic garden with a couple shaggy ponies running around.
No comments:
Post a Comment