House Hunting part deux

The whole process of house hunting, which admittedly began as something of a lark because I wanted more room for art on my walls, has ended up being quite an experience.  Personally, I have never disliked renting.  Yes, I'm paying someone else's equity; I get that.  Yes, I have been forced to move house because of my building being sold.  Yes, I've had crazy - and I mean crazy - landlords.  I've also never had to fix my own roof, replace my own furnace or appliances, do my own maintenance, or any of the like.  I've been allowed to paint, to personalise and to garden.  As far as I'm concerned, this has amounted to a good deal for me.  It also suited my somewhat transient lifestyle.  I take risks and move across the country, take new jobs in new cities, and use travel (and moving) as a way to escape life's problems.  I'm not good at settling down. 

On Friday, we put in an offer on a house and it was accepted.  I had a minor fit in the car while we waited for the realtors to finish their negotiations.  Glenn got concerned because I stopped communicating.  Words became noises and when he asked me if I was okay, all I could answer with was, "I love you."  As sentiments go, it's a nice one, but not really an answer to the question.  I imagine what I experienced was something not unlike the feelings people have when they get married.  It was a sudden, horrifying realisation that I was doing something big - really big - and making a major life commitment.  I was also making a very clear commitment to Glenn and our lives together.  When words finally returned to me, I called my mom.  First things first, after all.  Then I said to Glenn, "How anyone could think an engagement ring is a bigger symbol of commitment than buying a house together is nuts.  You can skip the engagement ring and go straight to wedding ring, okay?  We just bought a house."

Suddenly, I'm settling down. 

The house is not in the neighbourhood we were hoping to move in to, but after viewing something like twenty homes, it became evident that with the money we were able to spend, we wouldn't be getting what we wanted unless we looked further afield.  I won't be able to walk to work, but on nice days I'll be able to ride my bicycle.  We're literally three houses south of a park on a dead-end street.  We have what is very likely one of the largest homes in the neighbourhood, with plenty of room for me to have an office, Glenn to have a practice space, while still having a guest bedroom and room for kids.  The house dates from 1906 and has the structural trappings of the period - high ceilings, hardwood - but at some point the original mouldings and details were removed.  While this is a bit sad, it allows for Glenn and I to put a very personal mark on what amounts to a very blank canvas.  We're already having a conversation about whether we need a formal dining room, or whether it would be better to have an adaptable, funky and elegant, multi-purpose living/eating space for entertaining.  The back yard is also a blank canvas.  It is wide, long and stunningly boring.  We'll start planning its landscaping in the winter.

Of course, this is all contingent on the house passing its home inspection.  I suspect it will, but you can never be too sure and there's no way we'd waive an inspection.  The closing won't occur until the beginning of January, which will give us a bit of time to address the terrible carpets that need pulling out and some of the more agregious paint colours.  Otherwise, it's mostly in move-in condition.  I admit that I'm pretty excited by the large, blank art-ready walls and many more spaces that will need decorating. 

I hadn't realised my desire to nest was this strong.  Is this also part of settling down?  Maybe.

House Hunting

It wasn't really intentional, it just sort of happened.  One day, my casual, occasional survey of homes for sale in London became a real interest.  I found myself contacting the realtor who helped my friend buy her home and suddenly, casual glances became active house hunting.  How did this even happen?

When I was at the cottage with Glenn in the week leading up to Thanksgiving, I heard the words come out of my mouth that I could conceive of staying in London.  There are good people here and I have an excellent job in my field, even if it is flawed (aren't they all?).  It's very difficult to get meaningful work in the heritage sector right now so I am grateful.  I get good press and I am feeling a level of satisfaction with my work that I didn't necessarily feel in the past.  So, sure, it would be nice to be closer to the cottage and to my mother, but if I can't be, London's okay.  Glenn was pretty stunned to hear me say this and I was surprised, too.  Some time in the last six or eight months, something happened.  Previously, my emotional world turned around Toronto.  I visited over night regularly and thought nothing of killing a weekend in London to be in Toronto.  I have been in Toronto all of two times since April, and not once for an overnight since then.  My world now rotates around London.  I can imagine myself staying here.

So, we come to the question of how do I want to stay?  Do I continue renting?  Personally, I don't have a problem with renting.  I'd like a slightly larger place to live than where we are currently.  I have a lot of art that can't go up on these walls.  I'd like a bit of space in which to entertain.  I'd like to be able to do Hallowe'en for neighbourhood kids and have, you know, kids come to my house because they live nearby, rather than university students coming by and smashing my pumpkins.  Does this mean I want to settle down?  Not quite.  I like the possibility of packing up my family and travelling around the world (cats and all), but I want something more stable.  Something bigger, at any rate.

Glenn is of the opinion that if we are going to get a bigger place and potentially spend more money in rent, then we may as well own the house.  I hear that.  I get it.  But I'm fearful of things like property taxes and home owners' insurance and replacing windows or roofs at my own expense.  There's also my own level of snobbery.  I want a house that I feel reflects my values and my class.  I can live in a working class neighbourhood if the neighbours take pride in their homes, but I want more than a little cottage.  I want a house we can grow into.  I also want a house that is more move-in ready than less.  To me, the point of buying a fixer-upper for less and then spending two years fixing it up, only to sell it again, doesn't make sense.  I don't want to live in a house that needs work or that we're always working on.  The outlay of time and money, though perhaps one I could get back in a future sale, doesn't entice me.  I have a hard enough time keeping my house nice.  Living in perpetual renovations is not appealing.  So, I want a house that is ready to go right now.  Then I realise that to get a house in my financial range, which isn't very high, in a neighbourhood both central AND pleasant, might be tough.

So, we're house hunting and I have patience, but at the same time I find it very frustrating to see a house that I really like, only to discover that there is no way we can swing it.  My credit is bad.  My debts, while not insurmountable, are not good, and I have a hard enough time budgeting.  Is home ownership really appropriate for me?  I have no idea.  I guess I'll find out.