25 October 2014
Story #757
R. Linda:
I have been very remiss in keeping the blog up to snuff. I know you've dusted it until you're blue in the face, but I have an excuse. Probably not a very good one, but talk about draining the creative juices, house hunting will do that. By the time one has viewed eight houses in one day and eight more the next, and each one begins to blend into the last, you start to feel like you would rather live in a tent. I am very tired of Realtors telling me they can be a facilitator or a buyer agent, which would I like. I would like you to just show the houses, answer me questions and nothing more, but no, no, now you have to sign papers before you even head out. Hence, they get a commission as one kind of agent or the other, and it becomes all about the money, and after a bit of this, I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE.
As you and a few others know, I be looking for a new abode. With the family expanded, we are falling all over each other, and it lends itself to grumpy Grumplesons all over the place. I started referring to us as the Grumplesons and embarrassed the wife when we had reservations for dinner and they asked me for the name of me party of two. Yes, I said Grumplesons, not realising I had said such. There was a loud audible 'tsk' from the wife, who then corrected me with 'O'Sullivan'.
Well, that be the last straw for Mrs. Grumplesons because as soon as she got home that night, she was on the computer looking at homes for sale. I tell ya! I thought this would all fade away, but no, no, she found a few prospects and dragged me out to look with her.
Having since June (or was it July? Can't remember which), I have looked at a grand total of what seems like 3 million homes, but in reality (I am told), there were about 43 houses on the market. I will say that since I looked at these 43 homes, none have sold, but three-quarters of them have come way down in price. Which is a good thing if I liked any of them, but I didn't.
We decided that if we bought a home, it would be an older home, as we prefer the charm and character of our own antique Cape. So if we could find another just a wee bit bigger, that would be great. And we wanted quiet, as we like to not hear traffic, all those leaf peepers going by, I tell ya! We wanted a few acres like we have now, so we aren't right on top of our neighbours, but not far enough away that we can't at least see their chimney.
Let me regale you with one choice property. It stands out to me that this mid-century Victorian was restored beautifully, with airy rooms, high drafty ceilings, big drafty windows, acres of green, grassy land, and a barn, which at the time of the showing, had show horses in it. Well, we looked at the wonderfully decorated interiour and then went outside. The first thing I noticed was the smell of a horse. Yes, indeed, horsey manure o'de' smell! The horses were turned out by the house, which intrigued me, as there were acres (at least 10) of prime pastureland. So, why up by the house, I wanted to know.
Floodplain. Flood what? I asked? The Corps of Army Engineers came in and dug out, so when the river, which is located right behind the house (hidden by a slope so you don't see it), overflows its banks, the water flows down into those lovely, grassy lower pastures and floods for about 8 weeks in the spring. The house and the ones on the road don't get flooded because of this engineering marvel, which happens to be in (if I bought the place) one's own backyard. For joy, instant boating. I don't think so. Anyway, the floods had only subsided a month ago, the grasses were coming in, and they were keeping the horses off it until it was established. The horses would come up near the house when it flooded. So there you go, Mr. O'Sullivan (not that I'd have horses, but flood waters in the backyard?).
We took a walk to see this river, and oh my goodness, it is a vast belt of water with rapids. I thought my kiddos would not be safe if they took a tumble down the steep embankment. I was told I could build a dock and put a boat down there. How was one to get down there to build anything I wanted to know? The Realtor's bright idea was to get slabs of stone and pound them into the steep slope like stairs. Can you see me doing that and trying to get wood down the stone stairs to build a dock? Me either. And the rushing water would not allow one to build a dock, so what was the point? But while we were there, on the other side of the river were these rather sketchy-looking characters walking along, and I asked about that. Seems there is a nature trail across the way. And at close observation of these three "nature lovers", I spied what looked like cannabis ciggies. Oh, wonderful NOT. This sighting prompted the wife to ask about the crime rate and home invasions. We were reassured this "probably" was a safe area, but the Realtor would look it up when he was back at the office. Yes, indeed, the drug trade in one's backyard!
I also asked what was on the other side of the hill where the 'nature lovers' were and was told -- trees. In fact, as we later drove over that way, there is a strip mall and a busy highway, which was buffered by the hill on the other side of the river with a belt of trees in between. I thought I heard traffic, but couldn't understand where the sound was coming from. Well . . .
So as we came back through the "floodplain" up toward the charming screened-in porch, we passed six whitish stone objects protruding out of the ground. I saw them from the corner of me eye and thought Halloween had come early, or the owners never put the decorations away. But me wife was more observant and actually turned and looked hard at the "decorations." It didn't seem like decorations at all, but the real thing: headstones. Yes, the headstones come with the house, as the original owners are buried there. Yes, R. Linda, right in the backyard, where, if you were enjoying the first of many martinis, you would be looking down at their headstones, wondering why. For joy! NOT.
"Could they be removed?" I wanted to know and was told, haha, no, they are grandfathered on the property and are a permanent fixture or fixtures to the place. Halloween year-round, just your sort of thing, I suppose, but not mine.
As I was contemplating this, there was a buzzing, like large saws, heard in the background, and then grinding noises, like a machine eating up tree trunks. I asked about that and was told, " Oh, a neighbour down the road was clearing for a pasture. In fact, it was (I later found out) not a neighbour but a housing developer planning to build a development (a large one, which means lots of traffic). When I later told the Realtor this, he said he hadn't really glanced down that way, but maybe he had. Maybe? No, maybe about it. I looked up the plans online, and at least 20 homes are being built. So we would be subject to the noise of construction for as long as it took to build those 20 new homes.
How would that be? Here, we'd be in our antique Victorian, looking out at a flood in the backyard, and new cookie-cutter housing from our side window. Across the street, there's a quaint but run-down cape, and on the other side, what looks like muddy, rocky, cleared land. And what do you suppose will be going there? Aha! I looked that up too, condos! So, the quiet, small-town housing I was looking for was going to be smack in the middle of a boom town.
And the worst part of this whole scenario was that two days later, I received a call from Mr. Realtor, telling me that someone else was interested in the property, and I should quickly put in a bid on it. I thanked him very much and told him no, I was not interested. I must say that every single property of the 43 had someone bidding, or about to bid, or interested, ready to pounce if I didn't pounce first. I have observed in passing that no one seems to be looking at homes but me and Tonya. NO ONE. So I get very annoyed with this hurry-up and buy this house or that house. Not gonna happen.
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I have been very remiss in keeping the blog up to snuff. I know you've dusted it until you're blue in the face, but I have an excuse. Probably not a very good one, but talk about draining the creative juices, house hunting will do that. By the time one has viewed eight houses in one day and eight more the next, and each one begins to blend into the last, you start to feel like you would rather live in a tent. I am very tired of Realtors telling me they can be a facilitator or a buyer agent, which would I like. I would like you to just show the houses, answer me questions and nothing more, but no, no, now you have to sign papers before you even head out. Hence, they get a commission as one kind of agent or the other, and it becomes all about the money, and after a bit of this, I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE.
As you and a few others know, I be looking for a new abode. With the family expanded, we are falling all over each other, and it lends itself to grumpy Grumplesons all over the place. I started referring to us as the Grumplesons and embarrassed the wife when we had reservations for dinner and they asked me for the name of me party of two. Yes, I said Grumplesons, not realising I had said such. There was a loud audible 'tsk' from the wife, who then corrected me with 'O'Sullivan'.
Well, that be the last straw for Mrs. Grumplesons because as soon as she got home that night, she was on the computer looking at homes for sale. I tell ya! I thought this would all fade away, but no, no, she found a few prospects and dragged me out to look with her.
Having since June (or was it July? Can't remember which), I have looked at a grand total of what seems like 3 million homes, but in reality (I am told), there were about 43 houses on the market. I will say that since I looked at these 43 homes, none have sold, but three-quarters of them have come way down in price. Which is a good thing if I liked any of them, but I didn't.
We decided that if we bought a home, it would be an older home, as we prefer the charm and character of our own antique Cape. So if we could find another just a wee bit bigger, that would be great. And we wanted quiet, as we like to not hear traffic, all those leaf peepers going by, I tell ya! We wanted a few acres like we have now, so we aren't right on top of our neighbours, but not far enough away that we can't at least see their chimney.
Let me regale you with one choice property. It stands out to me that this mid-century Victorian was restored beautifully, with airy rooms, high drafty ceilings, big drafty windows, acres of green, grassy land, and a barn, which at the time of the showing, had show horses in it. Well, we looked at the wonderfully decorated interiour and then went outside. The first thing I noticed was the smell of a horse. Yes, indeed, horsey manure o'de' smell! The horses were turned out by the house, which intrigued me, as there were acres (at least 10) of prime pastureland. So, why up by the house, I wanted to know.
Floodplain. Flood what? I asked? The Corps of Army Engineers came in and dug out, so when the river, which is located right behind the house (hidden by a slope so you don't see it), overflows its banks, the water flows down into those lovely, grassy lower pastures and floods for about 8 weeks in the spring. The house and the ones on the road don't get flooded because of this engineering marvel, which happens to be in (if I bought the place) one's own backyard. For joy, instant boating. I don't think so. Anyway, the floods had only subsided a month ago, the grasses were coming in, and they were keeping the horses off it until it was established. The horses would come up near the house when it flooded. So there you go, Mr. O'Sullivan (not that I'd have horses, but flood waters in the backyard?).
We took a walk to see this river, and oh my goodness, it is a vast belt of water with rapids. I thought my kiddos would not be safe if they took a tumble down the steep embankment. I was told I could build a dock and put a boat down there. How was one to get down there to build anything I wanted to know? The Realtor's bright idea was to get slabs of stone and pound them into the steep slope like stairs. Can you see me doing that and trying to get wood down the stone stairs to build a dock? Me either. And the rushing water would not allow one to build a dock, so what was the point? But while we were there, on the other side of the river were these rather sketchy-looking characters walking along, and I asked about that. Seems there is a nature trail across the way. And at close observation of these three "nature lovers", I spied what looked like cannabis ciggies. Oh, wonderful NOT. This sighting prompted the wife to ask about the crime rate and home invasions. We were reassured this "probably" was a safe area, but the Realtor would look it up when he was back at the office. Yes, indeed, the drug trade in one's backyard!
I also asked what was on the other side of the hill where the 'nature lovers' were and was told -- trees. In fact, as we later drove over that way, there is a strip mall and a busy highway, which was buffered by the hill on the other side of the river with a belt of trees in between. I thought I heard traffic, but couldn't understand where the sound was coming from. Well . . .
So as we came back through the "floodplain" up toward the charming screened-in porch, we passed six whitish stone objects protruding out of the ground. I saw them from the corner of me eye and thought Halloween had come early, or the owners never put the decorations away. But me wife was more observant and actually turned and looked hard at the "decorations." It didn't seem like decorations at all, but the real thing: headstones. Yes, the headstones come with the house, as the original owners are buried there. Yes, R. Linda, right in the backyard, where, if you were enjoying the first of many martinis, you would be looking down at their headstones, wondering why. For joy! NOT.
"Could they be removed?" I wanted to know and was told, haha, no, they are grandfathered on the property and are a permanent fixture or fixtures to the place. Halloween year-round, just your sort of thing, I suppose, but not mine.
As I was contemplating this, there was a buzzing, like large saws, heard in the background, and then grinding noises, like a machine eating up tree trunks. I asked about that and was told, " Oh, a neighbour down the road was clearing for a pasture. In fact, it was (I later found out) not a neighbour but a housing developer planning to build a development (a large one, which means lots of traffic). When I later told the Realtor this, he said he hadn't really glanced down that way, but maybe he had. Maybe? No, maybe about it. I looked up the plans online, and at least 20 homes are being built. So we would be subject to the noise of construction for as long as it took to build those 20 new homes.
How would that be? Here, we'd be in our antique Victorian, looking out at a flood in the backyard, and new cookie-cutter housing from our side window. Across the street, there's a quaint but run-down cape, and on the other side, what looks like muddy, rocky, cleared land. And what do you suppose will be going there? Aha! I looked that up too, condos! So, the quiet, small-town housing I was looking for was going to be smack in the middle of a boom town.
And the worst part of this whole scenario was that two days later, I received a call from Mr. Realtor, telling me that someone else was interested in the property, and I should quickly put in a bid on it. I thanked him very much and told him no, I was not interested. I must say that every single property of the 43 had someone bidding, or about to bid, or interested, ready to pounce if I didn't pounce first. I have observed in passing that no one seems to be looking at homes but me and Tonya. NO ONE. So I get very annoyed with this hurry-up and buy this house or that house. Not gonna happen.
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
