Making Money

Fairy Godmother Delivered

Posted by michelle on Apr 22, 2013 in Making Money | 34 comments

“No showings until Saturday,” the agent’s notes clearly stated. It was Thursday night and my husband and younger son were at a hockey game together. He was a top reader in his third grade class and had won a ticket to that night’s game! I’m so glad my husband is the kind of father that enjoys spending time with our children and that he was able to make it to the game that night. Our team won and my two guys stayed out til after 10, saying “whatevs” to the fact that it was a school night. Every once in a while, it’s important to show your kids that staying up late and being tired the next day can totally be worth it.

After putting a sugar-buzzed boy to bed, I excitedly showed Jeff a house I had just found online. “While you were out, I found our next home.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

“How much?”

“It’s well within our budget!”

He cocked his head at me. Our incompatible perceptions of ‘within budget’ had recently begun to drift apart in the past several weeks of looking at houses; mine ever increasing with each house I saw and subsequently didn’t love, his ever-remaining, steady like a drum beat, annoyingly loyal to his ideals and practicality.

Psshhh. Practicality shmacticality. Mama wants a walk-in closet!

Back to reality. I prodded my husband to look at the “amazing” house. As if I had discovered it, or built it, or designed it myself, I watched with pride as his pupils dilated and his lips curled up. “Wow, that meets a lot of our criteria.”

Way to go, Mr. Logical. Way to suck out every bit of emotion I feel for this house by dismissing it as just another money-sucking keeper of checks on a list. This one meets a lot of them, great, but for once I just wanted my husband to giggle and squeal, shoving aside any inkling of right-brained, level-headed, number-crunching scalability and just…fall in love.

“It does! Isn’t the kitchen beautiful?” I sang in response.

“What’s the asking price?”

Here we go again, wanting to know the asking price. I should have known. Of course I have to exit out of the beautiful pictures to even find such an animal. Who CARES what it costs?! It’s PERFECT! I secretly roll my eyes as I obligingly back out to the numeric (boring) part of the listing.

“Wow. That’s not bad at all!” I imagine I hear a teensy bit of raw emotion from my ever pragmatic groom.

For the first time, I look at the price and am equally wowed. “So,what do you think we should offer?”

Jefferson laughed at me. This wasn’t met with surprise, as he often laughs at my illogical spontaneity. “Baby, we haven’t even seen the house yet in person. Maybe we can see it this weekend.”
“JEFF! We have to see it this weekend! This is our house!”

The next morning, I called my agent. Unfortunately, the beginning showing date was firm. They wouldn’t have opened their home for the president that night, let alone little ol’ me. We would have to wait until Saturday, like every other house hunter that had already fallen head over heels. As we already had appointments to view houses that Friday evening, we decided we should continue as planned. Earlier that day, my agent had warned us that listing agents often set home showings to begin on a certain day when they know a home is a gem. Having showings begin on a weekend like that ensures that it will be full all day, and it is likely that multiple buyers will be at the house at the same time. In a market of low inventory, low interest rates, and an economy that seems to be perking up a bit, it can lead to an agent’s wet dream; a full-on bidding war. This warning didn’t deter me. Make fun of me all you want, but I somehow knew this was going to be our house. We just had to live through another day or two of tortuous waiting and second-guessing. The next day was Saturday and we made an early appointment for that morning since my son had a soccer game at 10:30. When we arrived, another couple was inside planning out where to place their furniture and talking openly about what size moving van they would need. As I walked by the female house hunter, we exchanged smiles, both of us thinking we had this house in the bag and then realizing quickly that there was surely going to be a heartache tonight. We just didn’t know whose. Just then, the listing agent showed up and started chatting with our agent.

“They’ve been here all morning” and “I’m pretty sure they’re going to make an offer” were among the tidbits I caught. I even heard her giving detailed directions to another property just down the road that she thought we might like! The nerve! The house was mine! I looked around, trying to keep my poker face in check, but every detail made me gush. Every square foot made me giddy. After our rushed tour (had to get to a soccer game!), we told our agent we had to get going, leaving the other couple alone to further discuss where they’d put their sofa and loveseat set. As we got further out of earshot, I winked at my agent. He had told me the night before to do so if I loved the house and wanted to make an offer. His eyes widened as he winked back and said “Yeah, you’re right…it’s too bad about that yard. I’ll be over around 12 so we can discuss that other property you wanted.” Love that guy!

If You Like It Then You Shoulda Put A Note On It

As I waited for our realtors (a husband and wife team) to show up with our contract ready to go, I whipped up a handwritten note to the sellers. I told them that I could tell their home had a lot of love. I told them I thought the neighborhood was adorable and that I couldn’t wait to meet everyone. I mentioned that my children were so excited as well. My agent advised against making an offer above listing price, but said she’d deliver the offer expressing that we loved the house and could possibly be swayed to increase if needed. We leaned on her expertise for this situation, instead just making it for listing price exactly but still attaching our love note. Then…we waited.

We gave them until noon the next day, remembering their first open house was scheduled from 1-4. Around 8pm that same night however, we got the call.

“Congratulations” isn’t a grand enough word for such a time when you make one of the biggest, most important purchases of your life.

I squealed and giggled. “Really?”

“Yep, they accepted your offer exactly as written, no counter.” More squealing. My agent let me know that they had received several offers that day, but that they picked mine after reading my note. It was such a great feeling. Someone picked me! Someone felt good about me living in the house that they so obviously loved and lived in for years based on a note I had written.

Later that night, I received a text from my agent asking the ages of my children. Apparently, the sellers are putting together a book of nearby amenities and a map of the children in the neighborhood that our children can befriend. My heart swelled as I took in this kindness of a stranger. A stranger who designed and was now handing over the keys to my dream house, and with it–relinquishing the keys to my new life.

I couldn’t have been happier.

The Best Nest

Posted by michelle on Mar 11, 2013 in Making Money | 20 comments

Having our house on the market makes me feel like I have personally stumbled back into the dating scene in a bad way,even though it’s my house and not me that’s up for bids. First, my thoughtless suitor often calls with little notice wanting to know if he can come over, eats my snacks (yep, happened), and leaves me with nothing but the smell of his cologne and a phone number that isn’t even his direct line. I sit and wonder why he didn’t stay longer. Am I not beautiful or charming? Do I not have the square footage those other homes boast? Do I…smell like my dog? After a showing, I sit with my box wine and fret over why he’s not calling. Is he just using me for my free goldfish crackers (no really people, it totally happened!) or is he spending all his time –and money– on another house?

The biggest problem I’m facing with this process is not even the fact that I have walking, talking mess-makers, but the fact that I have no control over anything. When my realtor held an open house, I wasn’t there to point out all the positives about the neighborhood which I know to be true. I couldn’t overt their gazes beyond what was lacking and toward what I know to be the best attributes of my home. Twice now, Jeff has stopped me from texting our agent to tell her “one more thing” I forgot to mention! Unfortunately, we lack the square footage to even put us on the map for a lot of buyers. We’re just shy of 2000 square feet. In this area and price range, buyers are likely starting their searches at the 2k mark, thus missing out on what I believe to be a gem of a house.

So why am I moving, you ask? Well, we’re outgrowing our britches unfortunately. Our house is perfectly fine and suitable for a family of 4 or 5, but the pantry is downright tiny. Because we are the type of family who cooks far more than we eat out, we need a larger pantry. There’s also an issue of housing values. The prices in this neighborhood and area have really taken a dive lately, while other areas seem to be noticeably picking up steam in the last year. With my husband’s bonus, our newfound freedom from consumer debt, and the nice chunk of equity we’ve built up just living in our home, now is definitely the time to buy…if ever. I say “if ever” because my oldest is in middle school. We have read and heard many times that you should definitely not make a big move once your children are in high school. Socially, it’s just too much and I have to agree.

The area we are lusting after happens to be near one of the best high schools (and elementary and middle schools) in the state. Now if only we could sell our house and then find the best nest ever in the area we love all at the same time. My fairy godmother, aka my realtor, one of those cool people that never freaks out about anything, assures me that it will all fall into place as if by magic. She tells me not to worry my pretty little head, though my head is on the large side, and then reminds me that there will be plenty of houses available for my choosing once mine is sold and I’m…essentially homeless.  EEEE!  Someone get me my box wine!

Until then, I will continue to check my phone for texts from my potential suitors every ten seconds like a psychopath, take 3 minute showers (what if I miss a call??), and yell at my children for, shame, going to the bathroom before a showing. What? Couldn’t he have held it until we got to McDonalds?

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