I’m homeless. Actually, both my husband and I are. Well, admittedly, that’s a bit of a stretch. We have a place to live, but we simply could use about 1,000 square feet more of it.
For the past several weeks, we’ve been scoping out the wonderful land of Central Indiana, hoping to MapQuest or TomTom our way to our new dream house in the potentially money-saving realm of foreclosed homes. We figured a house would be a great move up from our lowly apartment, now sprinkled with cardboard boxes brimming with my old memorabilia, his musical instruments and our many wonderful, yet space-absorbing, wedding gifts (anyone want a pea-green ceramic bowl?)
We newlyweds have pored over the makings of our first-time home buyers’ dream house. For my husband, that includes a big kitchen (the man loves to cook, and I sure won’t complain about that!). For me, that includes a big family room and living room, as well as a backyard deck for entertaining or simply grilling out while soaking in nature’s benefits. And for both of us, our home simply has to include spacious bedrooms and hopefully a future loft-turned-music room (maybe I’ll even take a stab at those drums!).
Little did we know that, like Lewis and Clark, we’d stumble across some uncharted territory, which has turned out to be pretty, well, interesting. Take, for example, the time we entered a foreclosed home that appeared relatively spacious and homey from the outside. When my husband stepped inside, with me trailing behind, I heard a loud, “Wow.” I suddenly got excited about the large great room I anticipated seeing, right before the putrid odor of urine smacked me in the nose like a mad woman picking a fight.
The forsaken amber-stained gray carpet welcomed us in. Being our daring selves, we began to hike up the stairs to see what other goodies were in store for us — that is, until we realized the ungodly pee stench seemed to increase to the nth power the higher we climbed. We finally came to our senses, sprinted down the stairs and hightailed it out of that house so fast you would’ve thought the front porch was the world’s last source of air.
Then there was the time we visited a beautiful home with a vaulted ceiling and glanced out the backdoor, only to realize that the barking Great Dane next door was enough to wake Rip Van Winkle.
And we can’t forget those times we stumbled across the assorted treats of ripped-off oven doors, busted bedroom doors, unfinished paint jobs, and the carcasses of carpenter ants on a wood floor (yikes!). At least Angie’s List can hook us up with some house doctors. House hunting is no picnic, we’ve come to realize. Maybe our cluttered apartment — for now — really is home after all.
A barking Great Dane? Oops, I hope you aren’t talking about my house! I’m always worried our neighbors hate us because of our three rambunctious Danes. Good thing our other neighbor has two yipping Chihuahuas that can rival any big dog in the annoyance-factor!
Good luck with the house hunt. It can be a maddening time, but it can also be a lot of fun.
What you describe regarding your house hunt is standard fare, really, for anyone looking for a bank-owned home today. Basically, you get what you pay for. A better tack, before giving up completely and staying in your apartment, is to consider buying a home that is for sale–and not a forclosure. Most homes that are on the market today are selling way below what they were valued at a mere year or two ago. And most sellers are very negotiable these days, espcially if they need to get out quickly. Dare I say it? You may want to try enlisting the help of a Realtor (ask around and find a good one) who can put you in touch with some homes that seem to fit the bill. And speaking of fitting the bill, it’s a good idea to get pre-approved for a mortgage before you start the hunt.