Could I get something cheaper for my next birthday? March 11 - 21, 2002 this year, I got a house...

I always used to get taken by surprise how mothers, when they have new babies, suddenly become mono-topical. Experience of our last month, however, made many things clearer. We could only talk about houses, money, mortgages, payments, wire transfers, taxes, remodeling, school districts, traffic patterns, construction plans, septic dumps, roofs, lots, bathrooms -- and so on and on ad nauseam. The fact that most of our friends still talks to us, is a sign of their utter loyalty.

	Our primary reason for picking Our House was above all location (no freeways, airports, railroads)... ... and this creek (the pale poles support freshly planted trees and other vegetation) and a view to hills that we have practically over the fence

We're glad that we did not think to try to "save" through searching and buying a house without a real estate agent. To enter the process without a professional help is a hazardous undertaking which is likely to lead to losing money. Each county has a more or less solid set of roles who pays what and how. In our county (Santa Clara) it works approximately as follows: a buyer pays an amount that's called the price, of which a certain percentage is subtracted and split among (buying and selling) agents, and pays for some title company fees. In the case when there's only one agent, he or she gets the whole subtracted percentage. A title company acts as an "independent third party", who holds on to the money, arranges a formal transfer of the ownership, checks that the property is not burdened by additional loan or unfinished estate proceedings, and only when everything is in order, money is paid to all final parties, and the house changes ownership. The buyer is also responsible for extra expenses like a property tax prepayment, notary fees, etc. All this is either required by law, or governed by contracts. One would need a horse's head to sort it all out; that's why we have a realtor; not mentioning that just when you need to have a clear mind to negotiate about dizzy sums and commitments for the rest of your productive life, an avalanche of your emotions takes over out of sheer joy of having finally found a suitable shelter.

Our agent, Sallie, took us out the other Saturday for a ride to see houses on the market, to focus on what we want and why. The first house happened to be located on a relatively busy main street (with four traffic lanes), hence it was rejected as a whole, though Sallie kept saying that if we removed this (interior) wall here, and replaced this moulding here, and made a wall here, and tossed out all those cracked cement slabs from the backyard, it could be almost OK. It made me feel quite depressed, but what the heck.

We were quite curious about the next house, for the pamphlet said that its 1,200 square feet contained, besides a kitchen, two living rooms, and two bathrooms) also four bedrooms. It really did -- one would have a problem fitting a bed into some of those bedrooms, but there were really four of them! The next house was very pretty and nicely remodeled, and well laid out inside -- but again, on a busy street. We could not go in the next house -- around the corner -- as nobody would respond to our ringing the bell, although Sallie had arranged for our visit; yet it probably was no loss. The building looked worn out (which could be fixed) and a neighbor next door parked his mighty, rusty RV over the whole front yard (which cannot be fixed as he may do on his property as he pleases). The following realty contained a living room rebuilt from a garage, but also a characteristic smell of leaking sewer. We sank into a heavy depression as it seemed that all good houses had been sold. Thus, we drove home.

Having gathered shabby remnants of our enthusiasm on Sunday morning, Sid and I went out again to see "open houses" as advertised in a paper. I won't bore you with details, but we examined these jewels:

• a townhouse without a garage (parking in the street), freeway over the fence
• another townhouse with a bedroom in a bedroom: a completely surrounded room had a window leading to the next room, which had a window out -- perhaps an arrangement suitable for some kinky brothel, but useless for us.
• a pretty house, which bordered (across the street) on apartment complexes brimming with temperamental tenants, some sprawled on lawns and sidewalks, others fixing their rusty lemons; nothing against concentrated ethnicity, but I prefer different neighbors.
• a pretty, quiet street that we could not find at first, as we almost missed it for an entrance to a trailer park -- where people anchor their mobile homes and live there. Offered house was right next to it. Besides that, it turned out that the owner had problems selling the house because of city's plans to build light rail (streetcar) tracks right next to his back yard.
• a home, where you could count the beams in the roof like ribs on a starving mare. The only access door to the back yard led across one bedroom, and the house had a heating dated back to the age of gold rush.
• a back yard with electrical wires hanging over at ten feet over ground -- which draw attention of our engineers (Sid and Martin) to the extent that they came up with the idea that one could nicely dry laundry that way, for example through a short circuit by wet sweat-pants, which they say would make them dry rather quickly...
• a house where on your way from garage to kitchen, you would have to pass through almost all other rooms
• a house where a selling agent just mentioned by the way that changing all those dry-rotten and termite-infested parts, could cost anything from four thousand dollars up -- and will you be submitting a buying offer today?
• a house near a freeway, whose tiny back yard was covered by an artificial golfing green with holes.

	Our house the first one where insides look just as appealing as the outside

Had enough? Besides all those horrors, we saw a relatively nice townhouse, which we rejected after seeing it inside -- it bordered next to a huge "castle", whose windows looked down from about twenty feet right into all the rooms. Then we saw yet another townhouse, but it was too late to go in. We wanted Sallie to arrange a visit for us for another time; unfortunately, it got sold that day. We also see a disadvantage in townhouses -- they usually belong to a complex where you must pay a mandatory maintenance fee. This amount added to the mortgage payment and other utility costs, makes a townhouse a lot less attractive investment.

We had five days to think it over, where to go on our next weekend. A feeling crept into our minds -- that we have already seen every moldy bathrooms, gloomy kitchens, un-heatable hallways, collapsed chimneys, family crypts (marble fireplaces) and views to every freeway in the Valley. We remembered, with a shapeless nostalgia, a house at the foothills, which we rejected right in the first round, just for a minor detail -- a pool. Sallie found out that the house still did not sell, and arranged a visit for Sunday. Besides that, we scheduled open house hopping for both days.

	Our nightmare, materialized - a pool occupying majority of the back yard ... but do you know how much it saves, as you DON'T need to MOW a lawn there?

Our Saturday was more an elimination screening (not all homes for sale are open on Saturday) -- we just went to all the addresses and crossed out houses that we really did not need to see inside, planning at the same time our Sunday route such that it linked to our pre-arranged visit in the house at the hill. Then we fantasized to no end, how "our" house would be horrible -- and did not need much imagination; after the training we received in last three weeks, we could be interior decorators for Addams Family House.

Reinforced in minds, ready to deal with the worst, we entered Our Home on Sunday. Our first step over the threshold brought a great relief, for the entrance door did not lead to a formal entry hall with a marble fireplace, but to a small hallway with tile floor and a built-in closet. The kitchen had a wooden floor, matching cabinets in warm tone, another door connecting it with the garage were next to a refrigerator (very practical for a shopping run). Around the corner, the kitchen opened into a family room (with an inevitable fireplace, though), which led through a sliding door onto a back yard. Well -- the yard was all paved, with a HUGE pool gaping at us from one side, and a jacuzzi in the opposite corner. We emitted a thin, muffled wail, and continued with our tour over the rest. Bright bedrooms, clean bathrooms in good order -- and quiet. No freeways, airplanes, railroad, factories... Central heating through ducts under the floor and connected to an air conditioner, decent roof, and even the crazy pool has an electrically operated cover (so that leaves and kids and cats won't fall in it).

	Kitchen if you're interested to read more about the house, with maps, floor plan, etc., it's all here

We said bye to a selling agent and made a feeble attempt to view yet another house in the neighborhood. Our nerves gave out, though (another living room rebuilt from a garage, another access to the back yard through a bedroom only), and so we hurried to leave a message for Sallie that we found a house we want to buy.
Continuing towards our old home, just to keep in shape (and to reinforce our confidence that we made the right choice), we visited another place. It went for an acceptable price (for us), though in a rather expensive neighborhood -- which means there had to be something wrong with it. And it was: tiny cells instead of bedrooms, heating consisted of one fan on a central wall (and that's supposed to heat up the whole building!), claustrophobic setting was underlined by a septic smell. Fighting our urge to run away, we dutifully reviewed the whole place, chatting about our findings without restraints. Suddenly, the selling agent turned to us, grinning, and said "Tak tady vám ta čeština neprojde, odkaď jste...?" ("Czech language won't help you here! which place are you from...?"). We stayed for a while and talked, and it was possibly the most relaxing moment during the whole home hunt.

We still had scheduled one session with Sallie, where we signed all possible papers (two dealt with making us aware of the fact that an unvented bathroom gets moldy), and sent out Sallie to fight for our house with an offer a few percent less than the list price. What happened in the following two days, taught me two things:

• I should never try playing poker, as I don't have the nerves for it
• playing poker must be horribly boring, compared to buying a house

	Guadalupe Creek ponds a park near our house is a paradise for elders, families, and ducks

To our indication that we were about to make an offer, the buyer countered by saying that he has had multiple offers and unless ours is at least at the level of his list price, we would not need to try. Sallie shocked us by stating flatly that if there were really several offer, we would not even present ours. The (probably nonexistent) other buyer did not materialize within two days, and Sallie presented our offer on Tuesday. She returned with a list price counter-offer, and a Wednesday ten a.m. deadline. That's why we never called anybody on Wednesday morning, and instead, we got in our car and went again to see the house. By that time, I was fainting every time I realized how Sallie and Sid merrily gambled with MY HOME.

That was not all -- I think that I got quite close to filling our a divorce application in the moment when Sid and Sallie rubbed their hands how wonderfully we did at not calling within the deadline, and how we thus sent a strong message to the seller, and prepared a new offer -- still quite a bit under the list price. Several confusing phone calls ensued, as the selling agent attempted to communicate seller's yelling and some new, nonsensical conditions; he was really losing his temper. Our realtor and Sid rejoiced, how was our business nicely developing.

Sallie kept talking into the phone with her calm voice, quieting down the other agent, but when she hung up, she told us that she could not go with us to lunch, for they would call back and she could not miss it. So we left her there with a signed, blank offer form, and went to eat some sushi. I then had to hurry back to my work, because I did not want to overstretch the benevolence of my boss. Sallie reached me there, congratulating us to our new house -- with a price in the midst of our offer and the list.

Subsequently I recollect vaguely that I got drunk at Kren's and because it also was the eve of my birthday, Sid fulfilled his pledge and really bought me a house for my birthday... There is no way he can sustain the trend; next year, I really want something cheaper. Not that I have a choice, have I?

Copyright © 2002-2004 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.