As many of you know, I’m in the midst of house-buying. Well, not really a house. At least I don’t think I want a real HOUSE per se. Even if they do appreciate better. But then there’s that maintenance thing. I have a hard enough time hanging pictures. How would I ever afford a HOUSE. What if the roof collapses? Argh.
That’s one of the things that’s eating away at me. Condo or house? A friend who bought her first house in the city by herself when she was single has been strongly advising me away from a condo. She really dislikes the idea of all the fees. But fees vary widely by development. Some run as low as $100 and some as high as $700. It all depends. I don’t mind paying a condo fee of about $200. I consider that peace of mind money. Anything over and above, though, I consider usurious and unnecessary. And I don’t feel comfortable in these houses. They’re small and tight and old. I like more space and one level feels much more spacious than several small ones.
I don’t know. Ultimately, I may go for the cheapest thing I can live with. I do the numbers and redo the numbers and they’re not pretty. If only I wasn’t saving 15% of my pre-tax income for retirement, I’d be on easy street. I can only hope and prey on the desperation of a seller somewhere out in that grid tonight. Hopefully, someone with a nice flat or trinity is wondering how on earth they’ll sell in this financial environment. So am I. The news from Wall Street is worse and worse and it’s chipping away at my buying power with every creep upward of the average interest rate.
How come irresponsible people are always getting bailed out by those who have done everything right? I hate all of you who ever thought you could buy anything you cant afford with money you don’t have.
This past Tuesday, my realtor and I finally went to look at what’s on the market. I met him at a place after work and then he took me around from there. We saw ten properties and out of the ten, i had a more or less clearly delineated top three. They’re different types of places in vastly different neighborhoods. This is why I’m hard to shop for. I don’t have a clear set of rules or image in my head. My needs and wants are a general idea and a balancing act of it and reality given the market and the money I have (and don’t have). I’m kind of working backwards. I have an idea of how much I can spend and then I’m trying to find a place that I can wrangle into the financial picture while giving up as little as possible. The biggest rule is it must, must be in Center City. Hence the problems because this is expensive real estate and its value has not dropped too dramatically.
One place is a top floor condo in a walkup building. It’s small but has great finishes and an amazing roof deck. It’s downsides are it’s in an up-and-coming neighborhood whose infrastructure isn’t what I’d want it to be but it’s close to one of the city’s poshest squares AND it has no washer or dryer in the unit. I’d have to go next door to use that brownstone’s W/D for free. Great entertaining possibility, though, and the finishes are beautiful but not necessarily something I’d pick for myself.
The other place is a trinity in one of the most stable neighborhoods in the city replete with markets and corner restaurants and single family homes. The trinity has all new finishes and is in move-in condition. It’s a house so all problems would be on me but it appears well-maintained and no work is needed to make it livable. The kitchen was my favorite. The problem would be getting all my stuff in it. Not only is the living space small, the corkscrew staircase makes getting anything larger than a tote bag difficult if not impossible up or down. Where would I put the bike I plan on buying? I’d have to get rid of my larger objects and start over. I could do it, but do I want to?
The last and best was a converted loft in party central though it’s on a quieter street. It was converted in the 80’s since that neighborhood was one of the first to come up. It’s a blank canvas since everything is boring white and older, cheaper materials. But it’s huge with a sunken living room, plenty of closet space, and the kitchen is huge. Added bonus is that it’s on the subway line and an easy walk to the market I love most. The city there is beautiful and you can see the river from the huge picture windows. The problem? About 40-50K too expensive. But it’s been on the market a long time. Maybe everyone wants all the new finishes and granite kitchens in the neighborhood for the same price or near to it.
My realtor (who I’m probably driving insane with my ceaseless e-mails and control-freak behavior) is going to be out of town this coming week. My mission is to make a list of properties I want to see, secure financing, read the rest of my second book and the legalese workbook he gave me. When he gets back, it’ll be August and things will really get serious. Unfortunately, steeply climbing interest rates are eroding my buying power.
Stay tuned.
On Wednesday, I met up with some friends in Old City for drinks. Of course the topic turned to my househunting. Listen, I love my friends. They’re great people. But at one point there some things were said that have bothered me since. They’ve left me wondering if indeed I’m the only one who reads the news and if there’s something wrong with me that I do. I’ve seen shadows of the discussion over the news the past few days.
- Why the trouble in the credit market is important… no matter how optimistic you are. Getting money right now could become a huge problem and I’m precisely the kind of person who could really be hurt by this. Don’t tell me not to worry! There is plenty to worry about. If I can’t get a loan, I can’t buy and if I can’t buy I’ll need to keep renting and if I need to keep renting, I can’t stay here because if rent goes up any more (which it WILL), it will destroy my margin and make me unable to save more for the greater down payment/ closing cost fortune I’ll need to amass. Get it?! No? Stop watching reality TV, it makes you stupid.
- On the emerging new reality and why car-happy America is over. It’s days are numbered and even now mainstream news media are becoming crammed full of articles of self-flagellation for having believed the hype. After reading even one article like this and some of its comments, I find it simply incredible that someone would seriously suggest to me to buy a car whilst living in the midst of one of the United States’ biggest cities. Unfathomable. And what bothers me most is I’m friends with this person. I think I was struck nearly speechless. If I had said more, I would have killed the friendship. It really is mind-boggling. I think she drives to work every day… a 3-mile commute through beautiful neighborhoods. That wounds my soul. It wounds my soul.
- I watch most of my TV at the gym. There are three reasons why it’s a good plan: it gives me added incentive to go to the gym, TV makes you stupid, and it’s too expensive for me to pay the outrageous prices for cable. I don’t lecture you. Don’t you dare lecture me. You’re married. You split costs and you can afford more. I can’t. And I believe in intelligence and ideas, not American consumerism. I believe in do unto others so I held my tongue and kept to myself my diatribes of why modern American life is such poor quality. I said nothing even while being hammered on two sides. I was speechless that ideas like these could be held against me at this time in American history when finally, FINALLY some sense is starting to seep through the American psyche that we’ve been living too wrong for too long.
I love my friends. Really and that’s why I didn’t say what I could have. But it makes me wonder how come I’m the only one on earth who understands these things. Where are all those people who post sensible things on blogs? I know I’m right. I should worry about the mortgage mess meddling with my plans and I can’t educate myself enough or work enough to get the deal I need. Cars for people in large cities are more hassle than necessity, let alone a social sin and indulgence that will cost us all more in the end. TV in excess makes you stupid.
This is what I constantly have to deal with. No wonder I’ve been eating a lot of chocolate lately.
I’m with one day left to go in this Week From Hell. My fuse is nonexistent and anything and everything drives me into a knee-knocking panic or a flying rage. Ah, fatigue. What it does for your life.
These are the dog days of summer early. I can barely keep my eyes open because of all the hours I’ve been working and yet I can’t sleep. House hunting has me climbing walls. Now that I think I’ve found a realtor, how do I essentially fire everyone else I interviewed? What’s the etiquette? My homeowner friends have no insight on this. No one else has been as gung-ho as me in interviewing realtors to find the right one. Walking into a broker’s office has worked for everyone. That’s all fine and good, but that approach doesn’t work for me. I’m a micromanipulator, over-educated, over-stressed, and over-anxious of being had or wasting one dime of my hard-earned money. Maybe it’s because not knowing something frightens me more than anything else and I get performance anxiety when I torture myself thinking if only I had made one more phone call or talked to one more person I would have gotten a better deal. Spending $50 always prompts self-flagellation and second thoughts. Imagine spending a quarter of a million.
It doesn’t help that I have no one to help me. People usually have their families to help them out either financially or otherwise. I’ve known now that I’m cursed with one of the most useless bunch of people on this earth as my family. Not a one has money to call their own nor can they make their own sound life decisions. Long ago I learned the maxim by which I live: TRUST NO ONE. I don’t because I never could. If you want something done (forget done right, I’d settle for done) you really do have to do it yourself. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done and I can’t count on a single person to so much as help me move. I’m past hating them. I just ignore them now.
Today, I was convinced I’d signed up to work an extra four hours. I was kicking myself that I’d done that because, hell, I’ve already worked nearly 30 hours of overtime. But when I went to check with the office to see if she’d need me for the afternoon, she said I wasn’t on the list (and they were utilizing everyone who signed up). I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders. She asked me if I wanted to stay (they always need more help in the summer), but I said no. God knows I was there the entire weekend in a long torture that just would not end. If indeed I had signed up for the extra OT today and she’d said I was on the list and needed, I would have honored it, but it was nice to say, “No, I’m going home,” and walk away.
I skipped the gym, too. I feel guilty about that but I had to write back the realtors I’m still toying with about some listings they’d sent. I really need to get that started. August will be here before I know it and then I’ll have to make the biggest decision I’ve ever made. I have no one to help me. I have to stress out the way I do so what needs to get done, gets done.
I’m off to eat chocolate and watch computer TV.
I won’t wax poetic about patriotism. I’ll say nothing about the cookouts you people with regular jobs participated in this weekend. I’ll not breathe a word about three days off or the beginning of the “summer driving season” or anything remotely related to a holiday.
I’ve just worked 24 hours of overtime and the brutality of that sandwiched between two full weeks of work knows no bounds. Think about that next time you’re stuffing your face with ground up cow. Some people are working and they’re not being paid so much for their trouble to afford anything other than a dog house in which to live. I’m tired of the whinging about gas prices as well. I can’t complain since I can’t afford transportation other than a pair of shoes.
It’s the last day of the academic year and I’ve just returned from the farewell dinner for one of the general surgery fellows. They’re all gone. It was their last day today. We’re rid of the incompetents we hated all year and the friends we liked. We lose great docs to other institutions and feel the weight of our hospital hire some of the less popular, less talented staff. This year, it was worse.
This year took the Pseudo as well. I didn’t even see him today. I haven’t seen him in a week. Maybe it’s better this way. Pseudo, after everything that happened, there’s really not much left to say other than…
Au revoir. Bon chance.
I gave up the chance to watch the premiere of that new food show I want to watch so I could go to the gym later and watch the Euro 2008 Final. It’s huge. It isn’t every day that someone who’s actually a chef gets a Food Network show these days.
This post is for Spain. For winning the Euro 2008 championship. For fino sherry. For chorizo. For saffron. For smoked paprika. For olives. For Fernando Torres and Xavi.
Spain’s cuisine forms one part of the epicurean’s triangle, with France and Italy. Authentic Spanish is still hard to find in this city. Usually a gem or two is stashed on store shelves next to Italian products. It’s only a matter of time before it bursts wide open, though. Tapas places are catching on and it shouldn’t be long before true Spanish restaurants will begin to draw a following. And yes, there’s more to Spanish food than paella. Jose Andres says one day, romesco will be as well-known as marinara. One can only hope.
I met with the first of a small handful of realtors today. I realize I’m the one interviewing them for a job but it doesn’t make me any less nervous. I’m a fish out of water with this whole thing and people who know me wouldn’t recognize me in situations like this. I’m one of those people who like to *know* what I’m talking about and be clear-eyed about a situation. When it comes to things like pediatric general surgery, facial reconstructions, ancient history, baking, literature, and the color wheel, I’m all over it. I tend to be opinionated and assertive and I know what I know and will blab on about it at length and sometimes I come off a little strong.
Not so with this home-buying thing. Because I’m so analytical, I tend to listen first before I speak so I’m sure I know what I’m talking about and it hasn’t all gelled in my mind yet (and probably never will, I’m very good with arguments, not so much with finite things like numbers). I think the two of them did most of the talking. I didn’t sign an exclusivity agreement but I liked how responsive they’ve been and how they gave me a copy of everything so I could read it over. They’re also nearer my age and didn’t really talk at me at all which I hate. But what does make me a little leery is that there are two of them. It could be a good thing in that I won’t be dealing with an assistant or go-between I’ve never met before. The bad thing is that it’s a 2 on 1 situation and that makes me leery. I wouldn’t call myself paranoid or suspicious but I’m not naively trusting either. I always wonder– my irrepressible inner cynic– what’s in it for the other person and what lies behind what they tell me and how much of it is the truth and their truth. These two want 3% of the sale price which the seller will pay plus $250 extra I’d have to pay. It doesn’t sound unreasonable, but I was told at my home-buying class that I shouldn’t pay anything. A realtor’s true payment is a satisfied buyer who will pass on business cards to friends and coworkers.
After leaving them, I went to my hairdresser’s, who I love and of course I told him where I had just been. He gave me the card of another realtor, someone he’s used to buy his house in the south of the city. Maybe I’ll contact the guy, maybe I won’t. But it’s all been a start to the whole thing and it’s making me queasy. It’s a lot of money and some risk and with the market being what it is, it’s a scary time for everyone. I can just remain thankful of what I do have: job security and ten percent down.
I have 10 dollars remaining for groceries this month. Poverty sucks.
I need to think of something other than real estate so I’m off to read about Ferdinand and Isabella and the Spanish Inquisition. It sounds awful, but reading about someone else’s misery makes me feel better.
New York state says so.
And it is. Butter has always been better. On all fronts for all reasons, especially when it comes to baking. How someone can open a can of Crisco and scoop out that waxy goo that smells somewhat like car oil is beyond me. It should have never caught on. Sure, butter’s more expensive, but you get what you pay for. Now that the craze is all for things natural, butter is back in. It isn’t “bad for you”. It’s never killed anyone.
The anti-butter movement started because people want to eat a dozen cookies rather than one and still fit in their teenage jeans. That defies logic and all reason. Butter is better, just not in handfuls. Butter’s great, just eat your bread plain or use it to sop up sauces rather than buttering it up.
As an avid baker, I’m glad of the measure since it will increase quality of baked goods from a flavor standpoint. Nothing beats butter for pastry and cakes. Nothing tastes better or has a better finish. It’s the real thing and nothing beats the real thing. One of my top pet peeves is when I bring a cake into work and people immediately want to know how much butter is in it. All cake batters take a substantial amount of butter and if you don’t know that, you’re an idiot. What do they expect me to tell them? It’s made from grass it just looks and tastes like butter??? No one told you to eat half the cake. Grab a slice and go on with your life… and have no dessert after dinner tonight. It’s really not that hard. One thing I have never liked is buttercream frosting, though. That’s why I make non-frosted cakes and tarts. I’m not into the covering the buttery cake with further butter and sugar. It’s too much of a good thing. I prefer Italian meringue or mixed berries or nothing at all since my cakes don’t need it. But people, people want to eat their entire cake and make no concessions to it.
I fired off several angry e-mails to the powers that be in my institution this past week. I doubt they’ll fire me but I could still make people, say, not happy by questioning their logic. The picture below is why I did it. For me. For my friends. For all women everywhere who everyone pats on the head and expects to go back to their Barbies and shut up and lay off. I will not lay off and I’m taking this one to the mat.
I got the graphic from Waddell, that’s what the highlighting’s about. It isn’t my doing. Anyway, it’s what isn’t on the chart that’s important.
And finally, finally reality sets in. The rose-colored glasses grow clear and through the fog of burning illusions, Americans finally start to see what everyone else has known for years. Reality. It’s a bitch, isn’t it? Vespa sales have doubled. He who laughs last, my friends. He who laughs last, dear SUV owners who have thought for years, “I drive Big Car so therefore I AM.” What you are is broke.
Do I sound smug? Perhaps, but I can’t help it that I’m a realist and you, SUV driver, are not. Get a bike, ride the subway, WAKE UP.
They finally pulled the plug on my cable yesterday. Now I can go back to doing things that require mental exertion, no matter how meager.
I’m reading the New York Times this morning and I find out that West Virginians think statistics is a hard science. The crapshoot numbers game that can be manipulated to show anything is thought of as a hard science? Maybe that’s as hard as it gets in West Virginia but not in any other state I’ve ever lived in.
