Jennifer Myszkowski, home owner

Everyone told me there would be a bunch of signing, that my hand was going to hurt, that it was going to go on and on. Turns out it wasn't so bad. Maybe it's because everyone prepared me so well that it was like a breeze.

Now the real work begins.

You may be interested to know that I didn't cry at all at the closing. I did cry a little bit at the walk-through, but that's because I'm a human. On our way to the walk-through, I had to rush to a nearby Dunkin Donuts to avoid soiling myself from the nerves.

All in all, though, we made it through with flying colors over here. Now we just have to wait for the deed to be filed this afternoon, then we can go pick up our keys (the seller's lawyer is crazy old-school and wouldn't let us have the keys until the filing).

If anyone wants any recommendations for such things as mortgage broker or real estate lawyer, please e-mail me. I'll be glad to pass some names on to you.

The latest

Well, we had our house inspection on Friday, and it all went off without a hitch. There are a few plugs with reverse polarity and a couple other small issues that we'll deal with after we close. It's happening in earnest.

I had a total meltdown - like total - on Wednesday night. Instead of celebrating our love, I spent the night crying out loud. The stress of the house buying just blew up over a very stupid request from the bank granting our mortgage. I got a raise on April 1 and they wanted me to submit a written statement explaining why it happened gradually over two paychecks. It happened gradually because it was effective on April 1, but April 1 was in the middle of a pay period, so one paycheck was partially my old rate and partially my new rate. My telling them this was not enough. I had to write a statement about it.

I don't know why this made me insane, but it totally did. I was actually howling from it.

It was, I guess, the last straw. I have given those people just about everything they could possibly want from me short of a blood sample. They took copies of my tax returns, pay stubs, then even more pay stubs. I signed forms, then more forms, then even more forms. I wanted to shout at them, "This raise means I will have more money to pay you back. What's wrong with you people?" Instead, I shouted and cried out loud. Scott lost patience with me for a little while, which scared me because he generally has an unending well of patience, but in retrospect, I can see why. I was completely out of my goddamned mind.

The good news is that I'm back in my mind. The other good news is that I ran into an acquaintance who recently went through a very similar situation and told me that she lost her mind for a while too. This gave me great comfort.

Scott and I both took the whole day off on Friday for the inspection and I'm glad we did. We were both so exhausted from all the recent madness that we came home after the inspection and slept all afternoon.

I've also gotten a lot of bad news lately. It seems like people are dropping like flies. Generally speaking, I'm not surrounded by death or disease, but lately people are falling ill or dropping dead. It's been taking a toll on my outlook.

I don't know if I mentioned that the bastard plantar fasciitis is back, but it is. I stopped having pain of any kind, became too excited about it, went for a regular walk and was fine, and then went for a too-vigorous walk and was decidedly not fine. I saw the podiatrist and I'm sort of starting over, which is disheartening, but okay, I guess. This time I at least know what works and what doesn't. I should get over it much more quickly - and when I do, I'll be sure not to go for any vigorous walks and will opt instead for bike rides.

My massage therapist who I see for painful massages about the feet suggested that I consider having a regular full-body massage to help me cope with all the stress I'm under. At first I was kind of thinking that she was too smooth an operator and she was trying to capitalize on my stress (she is an extremely smooth operator), but then I realized it was a good idea. I called her today and she had an opening and now I'm a little bit slimy, but I feel much better.

I'm off to pick up a Mother's Day present for a lady who deserves more presents than I can give her. My mother has been dealing with about a thousand more stressful things that I have PLUS she's been hauling around No-legs, who, incidentally, is a bigger asshole than he's ever been. I wish there was some kind of putting-up-with-more-bullshit-than-anyone-else award because that lady would win it in spades. That he's still alive defies modern science; that my mother puts up with his bullshit proves she's got more compassion than just about anyone alive. She'd give the Dalai Llama a run for his money.

Anyway, that's about as meandering as an update could be. We've covered a number of topics and I think we're done.

More about advice

Remember a couple days ago I was talking about people giving me advice like I was a moron?

I would like to make clear that I'm not anti-advice. I'm just anti- people talking to me like I'm a moron. I think JBo's comment on that post are exactly the kind of thing I was talking about. "Make sure you know the address." Indeed!

There's been a new bit of business which is people looking at me like I'm a moron for using a realtor. It's a waste of money, they say. What the fuck?

Seriously, this is the first time (and maybe even the only time if we're lucky) I'm buying a house. I took a class, sure, but other than that series of checklists and sample contracts, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm glad there's a nice lady who gets paid to tell me what I'm supposed to be doing and when.

"Without realtors, you can negotiate a lower purchase price because the seller won't have to pay them."

Okay, except that without my realtor, I'd be floundering in the dark over here. I can't believe anyone would suggest that a first-time home buyer should not engage the services of a qualified and licensed realtor. Seriously? I mean, come on!

Thank you. That is all.

I have to develop a callous (first I have to grow some skin!)

I went to my bank this afternoon to have money taken from my savings account and turned into a bank check in the amount of my down payment.

I was at the radio station this morning getting ready to leave and do that very thing and I started feeling shaky just thinking about it. I was having a bit of anxiety and ended up talking about it with my buddy Jeff. We talk every Saturday after my radio show for a little bit. He's on the air right after me at our sister station. It's funny how we've made friends just from talking casually for about 10 minutes every Saturday.

Anyway, I was saying to Jeff that I knew I'd be a little anxious about all the house-buying bullshit because I'm an anxious person in general, but I was surprised to be freaking out just giving a person a check. It's just that it's so much money. And it's not that much money in the grand scheme of things. But it took me SO LONG to save - I've been saving for damned near forever - and even though I have been saving for this very purpose, handing a sizable check to someone is a big deal.

He totally agreed with me, which was helpful.

I went to the bank and asked for a bank check. I told the teller that I was buying my first house and I was freaking out a little. Turns out she's buying her first house too, so she had the empathy. I had to fill out a form with all the information about the bank check, and as I was signing the paper, I thought, "Jesus Christ, I'm going to start crying."

She started entering everything in to the computer to get the check going. She double-checked spelling and made sure everything was right. The longer I stood there, the more my eyes filled up. I was in a total state of panic.

I was thinking about thousands of things about the house, but mostly I was thinking about how much money it is.

Of all the things I worry about, money is probably number one. I'm wired to worry about money. I cannot escape worrying about money to matter how hard I try - even when I have plenty of money. You can imagine my state of mind getting this check cut.

Up until this point, I kept my tears in my eyes, but when the teller walked over to get the check off the printer, it was basically over. I was crying; tears flowed in earnest.

She put the check in an envelope and handed it to me and I could hardly thank her for the tears. She smiled at me and said, "Good luck, Jen."

(Aside: I go to one of those banks that insists on calling you by name, but they want it to seem familiar and friendly, so they shorten your name into a nickname no one calls you.)

I gurgled something back to her and ran out to the car and cried out loud for a few minutes. Then I drove over to Margaret and Jeremy's and cried at their kitchen table.

Margaret said that from now on everything is going to cost a thousand dollars or some multiple of a thousand dollars and I'll need to develop a callous to it or I'm going to lose my mind. I know she's right. I just don't know how I'll afford anything ever again.

How am I going to make it through the closing without panicking and crying out loud?

I'm just not going to. I've met myself a few times and I know myself well enough to know that I'm going to panic and weep through every part of this process.

Here's the balm for my weary soul: I'm not just spending this down payment money. It's an investment. This house is a great bargain. I'm in an excellent position. I'm doing the right thing.

As Jeff said to me while I was coming undone at the station, "Deep cleansing breaths, Jennifer. Deep cleansing breaths."

When you're buying a house, everyone wants to give you advice

People dressed as clowns are pouring out of miniature cars to line up at our door and give us advice about buying a house and home ownership in general.

Mostly, people are giving us good advice. But there a coupla people who clearly think I'm a moron.


Yes, we're getting the house inspected. Yes! Of course! I almost want to hire a sky writer so I don't have to say it ever again. First of all, it's practically the law. Second, every single publication aimed towards first-time home buyers contains a large-print, boldfaced section that screams, "Get a home inpsection, you moron!"


I know people give advice because they care, but - man! - it's a hard pill to swallow, the one where you realize people think you're a moron.

Speaking of our home inspection, we scheduled ours for next Friday, but the sellers are asking us to move it up and I'm not sure we can. After some research, I picked a seriously awesome inspector who I think is top notch. So do other people, it turns out, which is why he's booked up until next Friday. They gave me first available. Anyway, I hope it works out.

I started to freak out a little bit this afternoon about it, but then I went for a bike ride instead. Did I tell you my podiatrist gave me the a-okay for riding the actual bike? Well, he did. In any event, there was proper exercise and no throwing up or crying.

(Kelsey, we will never lose out-loud and in-public weeping to maturity. I mean, really. It's me!)

OMG! It's happening! (This time it might be true!)

The house is ours! It's ours!

Other people bid, but they bid lower than we did. We bid the asking price because we knew it was a steal and that other people would bid below asking. I just found out today!

I logged onto the MLS site and they already put it under "Off Market". It's happening for realz!

Not only is it a great house, it's a great party house. We will be able to have the actual BEST parties ever. It's got a great yard and a great basement with a pool table and ping-pong table that come with it! Holy hell! It's happening!

I'm a little disappointed to be moving out of Ward 4, but we're only moving to 6B. It's just around the corner. Ward 6 is the ward of such former dignitaries as former-councilor, former-mayoral-candidate and all-around good guy Mark Lubold. Precinct B is the home of such lady friends as Foofy von Doofy. I'm surrounded by friends! We're surrounded by friends!

I stopped by Scott's work today to tell him the big news and he was basically stone-faced and unaffected. He said, "I'll believe it after the inspection." And, indeed, we'll see what happens after the inspection, but I can't imagine there are any deal breakers a-brewing in this joint. It's all out in the open. The place was empty and spotless. If there were something huge, I think we might have discovered it ourselves.

Anyway, we're still going to need a tear-up-the-floor party and we're going to need to have the floors underneath refinished, but that's no big whoop.

We'll have the inspection next week some time, then we'll have the closing, then we'll have the floors refinished and paint what needs to be painted, then we'll move in!

We are looking to acquire a gas stove and a proper refrigerator. If you've got any leads on either of these things, please let a lady know.

I'm so excited! And not barfing at all.

Homeward bound (maybe)

Well, pals, we put in a bid on a new house. This new one is a stand-alone house on a medium-sized corner lot. We were already booked to see it, and then the price got dropped. We saw it tonight. The realtor told us that he had 10 or more viewings over the weekend. We decided to cut to the chase and put in an offer immediately.

I'm excited, but I'm not anxious. Indeed, I'm a little nervous, but I'm not throwing up. Whatever happens here happens.

I'll tell you, we've seen our fair share of dumps. This place was a refreshing change. We'll keep you posted.

So many things

I've been making a list of things I want to blog about. Alas, the time to blog is so hard to come by these days. Here it all is in brief:

1) If you want to sound like a moron, a great place to start is to confuse averse with adverse. Averse means disinclined. Adverse means harmful.

Words that are related to adverse include adversity and adversary. See how words are related? See how you can keep track of them in your head?

Actual people with actual college degrees who work in actual companies that are very big can't seem to get this one right, so it turns out that if you get this one wrong, the only person who will think you're a moron is me.

I'm a terrible person.

2) We've looked at more houses. Get back on the horse and all, you know? Here's what I've discovered about myself: I'm not averse (look! it's our vocabulary word!) to working on a house. I am averse to having no time or money to do anything because I'm working so hard on a house. I don't want to spend my entire life working on a house. I know there will always be niggling details to iron out, but I don't want my life to be a constant house project.

I realized this about myself when we looked at a house on Sunday that had so much potential, but would take years and years and years to right.

I want a house where people have made stupid paint and flooring choices or have maybe put up a stupid light fixture or two. These are the kinds of things I can handle.

I do not want a house that has a hole cut into the ceiling with a ladder in it to provide an emergency exit to the people who live upstairs (who will access this de facto fire escape through what used to be a closet and now is a hollow-core door with a deadbolt). I don't want to make up for people cutting a hole into the floor of the entryway of a formerly grand home, and installing an extremely narrow circular stairway to access a dingy basement. I don't want to have to uncover whatever terrible thing is happening now because someone took out a window and never replaced it and the house has been effectively open to the elements since the last tenant moved out.

These are the kinds of things I'm trying to avoid. These are the kinds of things we saw in just one house.

I think I don't want a multi-family. For a while, I was thinking it was the way to go. Now I think I want a single-family home for us to live in. We will buy a multi-family home that we can fix up and rent out later, one we won't have to live in, but will use as an investment.

That's the ticket.

3) Did you know people still smoke in the house? Yeah, we looked at a house on Sunday that had people smoking all casual-like in the house. They didn't even bother to air the place out for potential buyers. Insane! Especially in houses with kids. What are people even thinking?

4) If you got an invite to the Best Party Ever III!, RSVP already. If you didn't get an invite and want one, say so. This year's movie is Flesh and the Devil, and we've already ordered Herrell's ice cream and hot fudge for our ice-cream-sundae-ing pleasure.

Unfortunate announcement

We're not buying the house. It turns out that it has an underground oil tank. It's still in use and the seller says it's never given her any trouble, so she sees no reason to take it out of the ground. Which is great.

Hmm. Okay. But that's the thing about contamination - you don't know about it until you have to call in the EPA. Seriously, unless a person is constantly monitoring their oil consumption and tank, they would have no idea - NO IDEA - if they had a little leak.

My research indicates that it's $1,500-$2,500 to take a tank out of the ground if it's not leaking. Certainly not pocket change, but doable over time, sure. But here's the rub: if it's leaking, it's $50,000-$100,000 to abate.

Wanna know how to test it? You dig it up and test all the dirt around it. It costs $1,500-ish. The seller says I'm welcome to test it, but that she's not doing anything about it.

So to sum up: I'd have to spend $1,500 to test the tank - in addition to all the other inspections, etc. - to figure out if I want to buy a property, and if it turns out there's contamination, I'm out a whole bunch of money because I'm not buying it.

According to a source, if you're going to dig it up to test it, you may as well take it out of the ground and get rid of it, since it's only a little bit more to do so.

Argh. Whatever.

My lawyer called me with the news just before lunchtime. At lunch, B, D and I had a frank talk about it. D got her Rumsfeld on in earnest and said something to the effect of, "When you buy a house, there are already a number of unknown unknowns. Why would you walk into something with such a giant known unknown?"

She's right! I had to cry a little bit, right there in the cafeteria.

I've taken her advice and the advice of a number of other people who have been giving it to me (solicited and unsolicited). I'm walking away.

I can't lie. I'm sad. But what can a person do? Something else will come along.

(Aside: my lawyer told me that the seller's lawyer told her that this is the second sale they've lost because of the underground oil tank.)

(Aside: my father had a pal who had a leaking underground oil tank. You know when he found out? When his neighbor found fuel oil in his yard. It's a silent contaminent. They had to take all the dirt out of his yard and his neighbors yard to abate it. Back then, home owner's insurance would cover that kind of thing. Now you have to have a separate policy just for the tank.)

I'm officially out of my goddamned mind

Tonight I was crying out loud about my mortgage. Sweet God, I'm a human.

I got a bunch of paperwork in the mail and I didn't understand it. It looked, to my untrained eye, like I was going to have to come up with an additional $2,000 at closing time, which took me by surprise because I went over all of it about a thousand times with the nice lady from the bank because I didn't want surprises.

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," I told myself. It was after business hours, so I decided to call my nice mortgage lady in the morning.

But then I started feeling really anxious, so I called her right away and left a half-frantic message.

Then I started crying out loud, the cry of a panicking person. Then the phone rang. Thank God.

This stuff is so complicated. And I'm a human who is sometimes a moron. It turns out I didn't realized that so-called closing costs include downpayments made in advance of the closing and a few other things, and I didn't understand why line F was being subtracted by line J.

And then I understood it, so we could proceed to the laundromat to wash, dry and fold.

Soon we will be washing, drying and folding in the comfort of our own home.

Huzzah!

Holy crap. It's happening!

So we went this morning and talked with our realtor and filled out the form to make a counter offer. Because the seller is still out of the country (and will be until mid-April), we assumed that it would take us a week again to hear back from her.

No, indeed.

We heard back from her just now. She's accepted the offer. If everything continues to go our way, we will soon call a beautiful 1890's Philidelphia-style row house home.

It's all I can do not to start barfing immediately.

I guess it's time to start packing, like, for real.

Holy hell.

I called my mother and told her the good news. She said, "Holyoke? Are you sure you want to live in Holyoke?"

I said, "C'mon, Ma. Are we going to go through this again?"

She said, "It's just that, like, five houses down from you looks like it could be a crackhouse."

I didn't want to tell her that she was looking at the wrong house. Because, in fact, it's right next door that looks like it could be a crackhouse.

Crackhouse, sweet crackhouse.

I'm really excited. We're really excited.

Now it's time to start collecting appliances. If you know anyone selling a washer and dryer, gas range or refrigerator, send them my way.

This just in

We got a counter-offer from the seller today. We don't like it. Now we're going to make a counter-offer.

This stuff is really maddening and complicated and it's making me anxious. Last weekend when I was overtired and anxious at the same time, I nearly came undone. In fact, if you count Saturday afternoon when I was prepping for our games night with Scott's work nerds, I actually came undone. I cried and cried about what a terrible person I am.

When I told Bex at lunch on Monday about how I spent Saturday afternoon crying about being a terrible person, she actually laughed out loud. "You're a terrible person?!" she exclaimed. "That's so funny, Jennifer Myszkowski!"

Well, it wasn't funny when I was crying out loud about it, but I guess it's funny in retrospect.

We've recently made new friends with a couple. Being in a couple means you make friends with people in couples. Couples culture is really weird. That's a story for another day.

Anyway, one member of the couple is a mortgage specialist, so I consulted with her about the mortgage I got approved for, and her bank has a mortgage "product" that I qualify for that has a WAY lower interest rate.

I don't think in math. At all. And now I'm having conversations with various people that are basically all about the math of making the money I have stretch into a bunch of different things. It actually makes my brain hurt.

The beauty part is that I have no qualms about saying, "I have no idea what you just said to me." When I was younger, I had a hard time admitting total incomprehension. Now I just don't care if people think I'm a moron. Sometimes when the people are talking to me in math, I have to actually cover my eyes and listen just to the words to try to make myself understand.

I regret how things have gone with math and me. I was so good at it in junior high. I was so full of promise. God damn you, honors algebra 2! See! That's how good I was. My teacher recommended me for honors algebra 2. Alas, it was my math downfall, despite staying after school two and three times a week for extra help. I just couldn't recover.

We're consulting tomorrow morning with our realtor about our counter-offer. We'll see what happens. I'll keep you posted. Obviously.

No news

Inquiring minds want to know what the house story is, but I'm afraid there's no news to report. The seller is still out of the country.

I stopped feeling nervous about it, which is good. I stopped feeling nervous on Monday sometime. I'm taking a wait-and-see attitude, while at the same time hoping for a good outcome. Just the same, I'd like the seller to find her way to a telephone so as to let us know what the what is.

Scott's been collecting boxes at work and he's started packing his books. I haven't started packing just yet. Since I did such a huge cleanse before he moved in, I think I'll only need to shed a little more crap before I'm lean and mean and ready to move. I mostly need to shred stuff, which I find to be an odious task (and which explains why there's a giant box of papers to be shredded by my desk). Paperless society, where are you?

Big news!

We put in an offer on a house over the weekend. We haven't heard anything yet, but we're on pins and needles.

It's an 1890's Philadelphia-style, brick row house (end unit) with a small yard, lots of windows and loads of charm. It needs some work, but not more than we can handle (hopefully).

I just talked to our agent and she reported that the seller is out of the country now and that she'll keep us posted. Meanwhile, I'll just be barfing nervously into any available receptical.

Sweet God!

Yesterday when I was signing the offer form, I was actually weeping from the nerves. Everything feels right about this place, so I'm not nervous about that part, it's just the whole thing is so big and scary and I'm a human.