I fully intend to pump money into the economy, but I’ve spend hours, days, weeks looking for something to buy without being able to do it. I don’t buy anything unless I love it, and, let me tell you, there’s very little out there right now that I like, let alone love. Things are drab, boring, inflexible, and cheaply made. Other than H&M’s t-shirts, Stila’s eyeshadows, and the Gap’s canvas bags, there is very little out there I want. Signs everywhere are screaming about all the great sales, but when I go in, the wares are dull and do not come in normal sizes. I understand that I wear a common size, but since it’s a common size, shouldn’t more middle sizes be bought and stocked? I’m tired of looking at 0′s and 14′s. I hate finding a pair of pants that I think will fit, but then they are “ankle” or “tall” length. Stock less of that please. Petites and basketball players should by definition have a harder time finding sizes. That’s what online’s for. Why do the averages have to go online more and more and more? I buy very little in person these days.

And one more note, not all of use want to wear pants that threaten to fall off every time we sit down. This ultralow rise craze has lived its life and now it should just die… or not be manufactured in anything over a 4. I don’t want mom pants or elastic waistbands, but I’d like to be able to sit without my pants falling off. And I won’t buy any that will.

I’m ready to buy, there’s just nothing worth my closet space. Merchants, this should make you afraid. Fix it or die.

I spent my day off cooking like a fiend. And it wasn’t easy stuff, either. I handrolled pizza dough, cut it out into mini-pizzas, brushed them with olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and baked them until crisp. Then I made patatera with an italian sausage, an extra I’d bought when I got the things for the lasagna, and subsequently topped the mini pizzas with the mixture for Spanish-style canapes. It made me add hot pimenton and agridulce pimenton to my list of “Gourmet Food to Buy”. I spend a fortune on food. There’s something to the news stories of why poor people in America are fat. Crap food is cheap, good stuff is not. Nearly a third of my monthly food budget goes to buying things like white truffle oil and bonito tuna rather than things you actually eat.

And I didn’t stop there. I won’t be taking these to work for the Christmas party tomorrow, but I made a beautiful tapa of red peppers. It took forever but that’s what I had for dinner on semi-stale bread.

Of course there must be a rant. There is always a rant. The first two hours of the day were spent getting my financial house in order. I wrote and mailed thank you notes disguised as Christmas cards to the key players in my recent domicile purchase. As long as I was doing that, I figured I may as well do all the financials I’ve been putting off because I can only deal with so much stress at once. 

• Final 2009 budget typed and uploaded to Google docs
• Condo fee, 2nd loan, and 1st loan full PITI paid to the prospective parties. 
• Payment details gleaned for the two banks.
• Bill Pay set up for the two banks with the information gleaned so I will no longer have to worry about buying something as quaint as stamps for the January and February payments.
• Final phone bill paid and explained to be sure I won’t owe anyone anything.
• Yearly condo insurance premium paid.
• Ordered La Tienda stuff and mailed it to parents’ house.

There is a still a lot of things to be done, some in the next couple of days, more in the near future.

• Pack.
• Plan Christmas Eve dinner and upload information to iPod.
• Get Bill Pay set up for condo fees. Mailing THREE checks a month is ludicrous. It took me forever this morning. If it keeps up, I’d have to quit my job just to get all the payments to all the right people when they need to have them. Writing a check feels about as foreign as etching cunieform into a mud tablet.

I’m enjoying the new kitchen. I have a lot of counter space and rolling out a full recipe of pizza dough that is normally enough for 4 smaller pizzas without having to move anything out of the way was a feat in itself. Nice unit. I can hardly wait to paint it orange. Yeah, ORANGE.

I realize this is a ramble. This is how much I care: 0.

I did it. I did everything I was supposed to do from saving a bit from my first paycheck and paying my first credit card bill on time to wiring money for the sale to the settling agent’s account as I was instructed. I did everything right and I deserve to have it done by now. By God, I DESERVE it. But no. Seller either lied or is incompetent or his agent lied or is incompetent and the deal fell through just as I was nearly done signing all the mortgage documents. Just like that. In *seconds*. His bank won’t allow him to free up just one unit at his overly-inflated appraisal for the lot of the units. The bank suspects a short sale, suspects he and his partner have hidden assets, and instead of foreclosing, is squeezing them to cough up the rest of the cash. That leaves me, an innocent bystander, between a rock and a hard place.

I’ve given notice at my apartment and buying more time will cost me money I didn’t budget for and shouldn’t have to spend, not to mention it’s an open-ended option since I don’t know how long it will take him to figure out his financial problems. My rate lock expires next week and the bank (his damn bank) says it needs a month to reassess all his properties. Rock, meet hard place. The so-called month would be the day after Thanksgiving. Rock, how are you liking hard place? None of this came up in the title search because he’s not defaulted yet and his bank suspects, possibly rightly, that he has other assets. I wish I could just drop it and walk away and resign myself to another year under this apartment’s lease. Unfortunately, I have come to hate this apartment and the anticipation of something better has really made it difficult to live in these past few months. The condo continues to look fantastic on paper. The property is great, the seller sucks. 14 of the 22 units are owner-occupied. That’s good. The street and neighborhood are ideal. Taxes and condo fees are low. The gym three blocks away has classes at good times of the day unlike the noon time slots of the gym I go to now. It’s on the subway. There are few places in town that are better for me to live in. This seller has no control of the condo board whatsoever. Once the unit is sold, I’ll be rid of him.

Now, I have to drink. I just ate a whole block of cheese. I’m attempting to not fling myself out of the window. The chilling rain fits my current mood very nicely.

Right now, it doesn’t behoove me to piss anyone off, but when this is over, some people are going to be reported and I’m naming names.

1. Coffee houses: I adore going to coffee houses to write or sit or read. I don’t care that i can make my own coffee at home. It’s the full experience that counts. I won’t stop going to coffee houses if it’s the last thing I do. I may not order $4 mochas, but I’ll keep going.
2. iTunes purchases: Good music never wears out and it never gets old and everyone knows the best music is born of hardship. I can hardly wait for the new Killers album.
3. Sephora: It’s called the Lipstick Law– people will continue to indulge in little things, no matter how rough times get. I can’t wear most lipsticks but I adore Stila’s gloss and I just scored the new hot grey nail polish this afternoon. Finally.
4. Metropolitan Bakery: They’re awfully expensive and price hikes this year have just made it worse, but there’s nothing like their amazing Old European bread. I can’t make this at home and I won’t stop buying it. There’s nothing better to eat than crusty, Old World bread… even if that’s all you can afford to eat.
5. Netflix: I gave up my cable but I have to watch *something* and Netflix and Hulu help.

In short:
1. When I’m right, I’m right and I hate to be ignored or blown off. I’m irate at the mortgage woman for not answering my questions when I asked them. It turns out I was right to be concerned. I hate when people don’t answer a question in one of my e-mails. With my work logistics, it is impossible for me to speak to a lot of people in person given their business hours. An e-mail to me is as good as a conversation in person! Don’t blow me off or ignore an e-mail question.
2. I need something to be resolved already. The constant stress is wearing me out. I’m not a particularly anxious person but this daily stress with having nothing still resolved is shaving away all my peace and stability and happiness. It’s sucking me dry and I have no peace of mind left. It’s intolerable.
3. Sarah Palin freaks me out. Her answer to what the vice president does at the debate in a nutshell encapsulates why this election is a big deal.
4. In contrast, I really liked Biden. I’ve never heard him speak before (I know) but he was very clear, very concise and backed everything he said with facts and figures and clarity. He was much easier to understand and even more transparent on the issues than Obama himself who I still feel is missing some paydirt. On the all-important question about the vice’s job, he was right on.
5. The bailout. I haven’t read any of the details. I’m embroiled in so much real estate crap that I haven’t had time to read anything.
6. It always befuddles me to see the people who can least afford a conservative government vote for it so adamantly.

Congratulations to all U.S. workers, regardless of how they view the summer. With things being as bad as they are and with all the chips stacked as they are, congratulations to those who don’t whine or complain or seek handouts. Congratulations to those who pay the high taxes because they’re too poor for expensive tax shelters and too rich to benefit from government programs. Rich and poor don’t pay taxes, the rest of us do. This is a congratulations to the middle class who hope and pray they won’t be extinct someday. This next election has to be for you. Get educated, write letters, march in the streets. no matter who gets elected, don’t turn on the TV and cease to care. We have to make them accountable to us since we’re the ones who pay for everything, who do everything, who make this country run. We’re the grease on the wheels, the hands on the dials. Hats off to all of you.

Have a good day.

The city hasn’t suffered nearly as badly as other places and while that’s good in some ways, it’s also kept things from dropping in price so much that there are enough people out there who still think their houses are worth what they think they’re worth. And it keeps the city’s better neighborhoods harder to afford for someone like me. It’s a disgrace that I can’t afford a better place because my pay is so low. Hospitals suck. Anyhow, moving on.

The reason this particular condo as slipped through the spring selling season with a fantastic location is it’s older. It hasn’t been lived in by the owner and it shows. It’s been a rental for far too long. Everything is older from the 90′s and bland and standard issue. White bland paint covers everything, including architectural details like the old factory’s cement columns and cement plank ceiling. Mauve carpet covers the floor when hardwood would notch up the visual value considerably. The bathroom is tile, but the cheapest white, non-textured stuff and the European showerhead has been hung too high for a short person. People in the market for Old City condos usually want everything brand new and while this one has great space, good light, and solid details, it’s all been smudged over by the blandest materials and finishes. Actually, it can be said it has no finishes of any kind.

What made other people skip over it is exactly why it’s perfect for me. I’m a bit of a design snob and I know my way around the color wheel. Nothing needs to be done right away since everything appears to be in good working order (I ran all the appliances when we were there last), so I have time to feel out what I want done to it and save the money I’ll need. The kitchen is a galley with good counter space and a newer range and oven. It even has a pantry. There’s enough counter space for a rolling pin with more to spare. It has unfortunate fluorescent lights and white, cheap cabinets and the fridge door doesn’t open all the way since it’s been jammed in too small a space. But it works. I could make that place into a million dollar space.

It’s owned by an investor, so the total absence of personality and general unlovedness makes sense. It was used as a rental cash cow for years. The tenant has moved out about two weeks before we first saw it. It’s been on the market since December. The number I’m thinking of putting in will be low, though more than the 20% off I was counseled to ask for. I’m willing to stretch a bit to get it. The worst that can happen is they’ll say “No”, right? I wonder if they’ve had any offers at all.

I’m stressing out over it since I’ll be back to square one if they reject it outright. I really like the place but am doing my darndest to not commit the cardinal sin and fall in love with it. If it can’t be done, it will not be done, a lesson I heard repeated in Italy when I was there last and the Italian version being the title of this post. If it cannot be done, it will not be done. If it doesn’t happen, it won’t and then I’ll have to wait until after Labor Day and begin perusing the new (hopefully) listings that should hit the market around the time. September 30 is my last day to reject or renew my lease. This is coming down to the wire and I’m aging in dog years.

To keep myself calm, I’m baking. I threw caution to the winds and spent money today when I bought a cookbook I’ve been eyeing for the longest. Tartine, written by Elizabeth Prueitt and Chad Robertson in California and named after their bakery in San Francisco, is one of the mast carefully written cookbooks I’ve ever used. No detail has been missed. It’s also up to my standards since I’m a fairly accomplished baker though I balk at over-decoration. I’m making the hazelnut biscotti. I plan on taking some to work and giving some to my realtor.

I freaked out yesterday and ate chocolate all day. Really. Tons of it. I hate when I do that.

August is halfway through. I’ve been told it’s the best time to get a deal. I need a deal in this expensive city. But we’ve seen everything that’s listed. I love one flat, not sure about the neighborhood. There will be more things after Labor Day, says my realtor. But they’ll be more unrealistically priced. But that’s been historically. We’re in the biggest housing meltdown since the Depression. Mortgages are getting more and more expensive. I need to hurry up and settle on something. But I can’t be rushed. Not on something this big and I don’t love anything and like only a few and can’t afford them all. Am I too picky or too cheap or just too poor?

I’m caught between a 3% raise and 4% inflation and a housing market that’s dying. Life sucks.

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.

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.