Buying a new house

This past Christmas, I got a call from a friend of mine. "The economy is going to get really bad," he said. "You should invest in gold ... and buy some water and a bag of rice just in case. Don't tell anybody that you have rice, either." Was it really going to be that bad? Were bottled water and rice really going to be a valuable commodity? If I hoarded enough, if Jesus came back, I could be like all three magi, bringing him gold, rice, and bottled water.

His phone call did get me thinking - how much worse could the economy get? I couldn't imagine things getting much worse and my job was pretty stable, barring some unforeseen disaster, probably involving an M1 Garand rifle, someone using the term "meat puppets", and a 32 ounce slab of lime jello. Every time I turned on the television, the news shows were all playing 24 hour coverage of the housing crisis and how we had hit rock bottom. Not that I was rolling in money, but I thought, "Well, this time is as good as any other to buy a house, and if I can't aford it now, I'll never be able to afford it."Another friend gave me the name of his real estate agent (not the one suggesting I buy bottled water). I gave her a call and we set up an appointment to start looking at houses.

Because I live in the Washington, DC area, there were basically three choices: find a 200 square foot condo which was actually only 150 square feet, because it counted the parking space which you couldn't afford but they would rent to you for $1000 a month, a house in West Virginia which would be so bad except it was two hours away and I would have to live next to West Virginians, or a bank foreclosure or short sale. A bank foreclosure is when the people who live in the house can't afford to make payments on the house anymore And the bank takes control of the property and sells it off. The former owner is forced to pay the difference. A short sale is sort of a bank foreclosure that's about to happen, but hasn't quite happened yet, so the bank hasn't set a price or thrown the family who is living there out of the house. That means that as a potential buyer, you have the great fortune of meeting the people you are about to evict.

I sort of had a feeling about what the experience was going to be like when I met my real estate agent Christine at the first house we were scheduled to visit. Within walking distance of my house, I decided to meet her there on foot. About halfway there, the skies opened up and it started to our. Luckily, I had actually looked at the forecast, a rare occurrence for me, and brought my black women's umbrella. (When I bought it at CVS, it showed up on the cash register as a woman's umbrella. Given that it was black, I assumed it was unisex. I made a comment about this to the CVS clerk who did not appreciate the irony. Since then I have always been somewhat self conscious of my umbrella, but not enough to replace it with a black men's umbrella). As I waked toward the house, I realized I was not alone. About twenty other people had parked cars within walking distance and were headed to the same house. I saw a pregnant woman I assumed was Christine sitting in her car. (i had been told that she was pregnant, so unless pregnant women had decided to stalk this hispanic family that was about to be evicted from their house, I assumed it was her. ) She motioned for me to approach her. I walked up to the car. "get in," she said. At this point, I really hoped it was Christine. Either that or I was really good at picking up beautiful forty year old pregnant women outside of short sale houses.

"The other real estate agent told me that it was okay to show the house today, but it 's pretty apparent that they are having their Easter party a day early." Now I really felt bad. Not only was I assisting in evicting them from their house, but I was doing it on their day of celebrating Jesus, and I hadn't brought any gold, rice, or bottled water. "Let's skip this one and go to the next one," I said.

The next house said that it had some slight mold damage. "That happens when the basement floods," Christine said. "After the bank takes over the property, they shut off the power to the sump pump and the basement floods." We waked in the house and encountered a musty smell. The smell continued to get stronger until we reached the basement stairs. We walked down to the basement and turned on the light. The basement had indeed flooded. There was so much mold damage that large chunks of drywall had fallen off the wall. I felt my lungs getting furrier from the mold with each breath. We quickly exited. "That one's selling for $265,000," Christine said. I have no idea how they ever expect to get that."

For the next four weeks, Christine and I would meet on Tuesdays and look at houses. Some were okay, but there was a reason that most houses were selling for $250,000 or under in DC. Among my favorites were: the condemned house that had a note to anyone entering the house written by the tenant in Spanish about how he had lost his love and now the house and because of the creepiness of the note, the house should now be considered for a new Wes Craven horror movie; the house where a family was placing mysterious substances in vials and stopped cold wen we walked in (I'm sure it was all perfectly legal) and one of the little girl's bedrooms was completely black from all of the mold growing on it; and the house with strange built in stalker areas (little alcoves in the bathroom) having apparently no function whatsoever other than to precipitate a horrendous crime.

None of them went through. Either I was outbid or the offers just sat on the desk of some banker somewhere who was waiting to concerned with receiving his AIG sized bonus to actually process any paperwork. Each offer required me to sign a sixty page contract that stated that I knew lead paint was bad for me and I knew that the house didn't come with a microwave. After the fifth time, one of my offers was finally accepted - a five bedroom, two bathroom house that sold for $450,000 three years ago. Even though my offer was only $255,000 and lower than the other bids, the bank liked mine the best because I had sent them more financial information than anyone else. I actually owned a house (pending the home inspection). Now all I needed was for the house to pass the inspection and I could begin stockpiling my rice and bottled water.