Walkthroughs, Round II

Oh man.  Just... oh man.

I was scheduled to do two walkthroughs today.  The first was sort of a whim on my and Nathan's part: an old house (gorgeous bones) that had been converted into three apartments.  We thought we'd check it out just to see how feasible it might be to convert it back into one big beautiful home.  The second was a house in a neighborhood that we love, and from the outside (and description/online pics) looked like exactly what we were hoping for.  It was in foreclosure, which meant that it was reasonably priced, but I was also freaked out that it might sell before we even got a chance to take a look.  Nathan's in Ohio this week, which meant he wasn't available for the walkthrough, but we discussed it carefully ahead of time and decided that so long as this house was live-able, we were willing to do any work that needed doing to bring it up to speed, and I should go ahead and start the process.

Now, several people expressed some (mildly insulting, if I'm being honest) shock over our plan.  "Well of course you can't make any decisions without him seeing it!" about sums it up.  (Nathan's response when I relayed these reactions: "Why?  You're not an idiot."  Great stars, I love that man.)  I feel like this may be another one of those military-brat culture things; both Nathan and I witnessed our parents making major decisions (such as buying a house) without the other one being physically present.  When you're military that's just the way it is some times.  You talk about it ahead of time to make sure you're on the same page, but my goodness- if you can't trust your spouse with a decision like that, how can you trust them enough to be married to them?

Anyway I was fortunate in that Papa Trout was willing to come along with me and keep an eye peeled for any major structural warning signs (and give me a ballpark of how much it would take to get the houses to where we'd want them), so it wasn't like I was going in completely blind.  It's a fine thing having a contractor on your side, I tell you what.  Actually, strike that- it's a fine thing to have good friends in general.

We got to the three-unit and Papa Trout saw what they were asking and started laughing.  "That's about $30-$40k more than they should be!" he said, and began to point things out to me (the need for a new roof, the need for a new porch, etc).  He agreed with us that it has lovely bones, though, and although it would take a lot of work to get it back to a single-family dwelling it might be worth it.  But then, as we were walking in the front yard we discovered something that no website will tell you about.

A man called out to us from across the alleyway, and we turned to see him shamble closer.

"I live here," he said, and my heart sank.  Not because he was living there (we knew there was one tenant still in residence) but because he was obviously mentally disabled.   He proceeded to tell us, "This is my home and I'm never leaving.  I love it here."

That, my friends, is a headache I don't know that I care to deal with.  And it makes me so grateful that he showed up when he did, because what seller in their right mind is going to reveal an issue like that?  "Oh yes, well, there's a disabled person living upstairs and it's probably going to take a state-eviction to get him out.  But look at the yard!"

So it was on to the next house, the one we were so excited about.  We walked in and I immediately realized that, like an unwary online-dater, I had been lured in by carefully angled photographs.  I won't go into all the problems with this house (Papa Trout went down to the basement, where he began laughing hysterically and yelled at me not even to bother coming down) but let's just say this: I might be willing to pay $10k for that house.  If I was feeling generous.

Long story short, it's not in livable condition, and since that was the one thing Nathan and I required (such a little thing!) it has been firmly crossed off the list.  (Unless they drop it to the afore-mentioned $10k, because then we can buy it outright and continue to live in our apartment while renovations are made.  Do you hear me, Universe?)

I guess this is the part where the glamor of House Hunting begins to wear off, and I start to come to terms with the fact that mostly it's a lot of work for very little payout- well, until you find The One, of course.  It makes me grateful that we're not under any sort of time constraint (one of the things civilian life does actually have over military) so we can wait for a house that really sings to us- and doesn't have a ceiling in danger of collapse.