Mihow » real estate

The Drama Never Ends

mihow — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 23:30:00 +0000

So we’re in the new place, right? And things are great. It’s really nice and I’m hosting playdates and getting the hang of things. Life’s pretty great, right?

And then this morning on our way home from the gym we’re stopped by two building inspectors who ask us if we live here and if they can come take a look. Now, I’m not sure what I would have done had Toby not been with me. Would I have let them in? Would I have panicked and just started running? Would I have broken into song?

I am not sure what I would have done. But Toby was with me and so it’s all moot.

We didn’t let them in. Instead we stood there like buffoons—lying buffoons, as they informed us that it’s illegal to be living in the building. And then I said, “I have to go move the car.” Even though same-side parking rules are suspended today and they know this because they work for the city. And I said it even though we clearly had just returned from someplace and were clearly entering the building to return home.

But I’m sure they’re used to this type of nonsense since there are thousands of people living in illegal lofts and commercial spaces all over New York City.

They’re used to lying buffoons.

But the part that sucks is that I had no idea up until this morning that we were living here illegally. I don’t mind lying if I know I may have to. But lying on demand? Impossible!

Apparently things are going to be OK. I’m not holding my breath, but I’m also not going to freak out. Surely this will end well. It must. But then I’m reminded of all the those times my car failed inspection—my perfectly (relatively speaking) decent car—and not a block out of NYS Inspection Station I’d see some rusted out, wheelless vehicle being driven 95 miles per hour on the BQE with a plume of smoke shooting out of its windows and exhaust pipe.

And I’d rant like a champ about it—the injustice!

There’s NO WAY this building is going to fail, right? I mean, given what I’ve seen people live in, given where we’ve lived in the past, there’s just no way.

But rules are rules.

I like living in New York. Most days. Most days I think about how much I’ll miss should we ever really need to leave town, but today is not one of those days. Couple those douchebags and their fake badges with the “wintery mix” we were blasted with last night, and I am tapping my heels together, muttering, “There’s no place called home. There’s no place called home.”

And I thought that posting this might be a dumb idea, because, well, we’re apparently outlaws, but the city knows what’s up. So who am I trying to hide this from?

God?

I think not.

The Update About Living.

mihow — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 00:13:00 +0000

This post has been a long time coming. It’s been so long, and so much has happened, I am not even sure what the Internet knows, thinks or wants to know (if anything) anymore. But for the sake of history, I feel that this needs to be written.

Granted, trying to catch my blog up on everything that’s taken place over the last three months is like trying to update someone on Lost (which is precisely how I felt back then). But I have to try. The good news is, this story doesn’t include polar bears. (I have never seen an episode of Lost but I do recall someone mentioning polar bears on a tropical island. I think that’s the moment I decided that I’d probably go my whole life without ever watching that show. Sorry, lovers of Lost.)

But I digress.

We almost moved to Washington, D.C. in November. We came so close, we even looked at houses in College Park, Maryland. We even loved a few of them. But they were costly! And we realized that by moving back there, we’d be in the exactly the same position we’re in here (unable to afford anything and barely able to pay the mortgage.) You see, DC has become a lot more expensive since we left in 2003—at least in the places we wish to live.

We almost moved to Boston, too, and probably would have had our landlords not informed us we had to be out on the 31st. Originally they told us we had until March, which would have given us enough time to figure out how to move there, and where to move to. Naturally, we were a little blindsided by their having changed their minds. But perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. Toby Joe and I have always had a hell of a time making decisions. We can’t even decide what to eat at night let alone where to live.

Boston seemed like a perfect option because the firm Toby works for is based there. That particular transition would have only included one major life change instead of two, which is what the DC option would have held. We read that the public schools are good, it’s relatively safe, and we know people there.

But we didn’t really have the time to do it right.

Out of frustration and worry and uncertainty, we even talked about moving somewhere small like State College or Media, PA. Both of us have this dream of living somewhere sweet and quaint, but neither of us can find jobs in these idyllic places. We’re tied to a city of some sort. And I do like the city—particularly New York, Boston and DC. But I also wish my kid could play outside and we could afford a house (within an hour commute). I also kind of like the idea of country and/or suburban life (ease of parking, shopping, getting the most basic things done), as bizarre as that may seem.

We realized right away that places like State College and Media are going to remain idyllic because they are unattainable to us—at least for now.

But that’s OK.

All of our indecision was taking place alongside one of the worst financial eras our country has ever seen. It seemed that every day we got word of yet another failing business or crumbling financial institution. Naturally, I began to freak out. I used to be terrified of nuclear disasters. (I lived about 10 miles from Three Mile Island when it leaked. I was six at the time. I had reoccurring nightmares well into my teens.) Now my fears surround money (or lack thereof), our society, and the fact that I am now accountable for another human being.

The news and our uncertainty made me do things I am not very proud of. Instead of internalizing it, writing stuff down, working it out on my own, I began dragging other people into it—people I have known for a long, long time. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. No joke. I am embarrassed by my behavior. The damage I have done to some relationships is astronomical. And I will probably spend years trying to repair it, if I have a chance at doing so at all.

I have had now what feels like a 2-month long hangover. It was like one of those hangovers where you wake up the next day and you think, “Oh my goodness, I have to call everyone and apologize for the way I acted!”

It’s like that. Only I was drunk on fear.

The last week of November was spent scrambling, and so we decided—three weeks before our lease was up—where we’d be living.

Toby Joe loves his job. I have said from the get-go that he probably works for one of the best companies I have ever known. I think I’ve even said as much here before, so we decided staying put was our best option. Had we decided this months beforehand, however, I’d have a lot fewer mistakes under my belt and we’d probably been able to find a more affordable apartment. (As it is, we’re cutting a lot of extras out of our lives but that’s OK. We should have done that a long time ago.)

In the end, we moved 10 blocks away from our old apartment into a new building with an elevator, a washer and dryer. Plus, the walls are level to the floor. It’s nice. For now. But it’s not ours.

The irony of all this is we were trying to save in order to one day buy a place. And every single option we faced (after finding out we could not renew at our previous place) required spending at least 10 grand in savings. (Security deposits, plus moving costs add up.) And to make it even further absurd, we are now paying so much in rent, saving isn’t going to be possible, not until Em’s first (and only) semester is up.

This post, I can assure you, is not me complaining. I am far too embarrassed and tired to whine about any of this. Our problems are relatively small compared to what much of America is going through right now. I know that we have it really great.

We’re lucky. I know this.

But I figured that maybe if I put this out there someone might learn from my mistakes. Because I made a lot of them and they didn’t only affect me.

Maybe if I put this one out there I’ll figure out how to become a better person and find a way to apologize to all those I included in our 3-month long drama.

I don’t know.

But I do know this, if I were one for making New Year’s resolutions, I’d make this one my own: Be a better person to your friends and family. You are lucky to have such great people in your life and you simply do not treat them like you know it.

So, where does this leave us? Well, we’re broke again, but used to it. And I think there are a lot of people in our position. Not that that makes it any better for anyone but misery does love a little company. We like where we’re living now and we’re happy to stay here until we really can’t afford it any longer.

I’m happy. I think. But I’m not able to brag about it because the chemistry in my brain is boasting otherwise. Once those levels get worked out, I will say definitively that I am happy.

The forecast looks really good. That’s all I can say at this time.

Our View For 2009

mihow — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 06:04:00 +0000

Taken last night as the sun was setting on 2008.

Happy New Year, my friends! I am grateful that you visit, read, comment, chat, suggest, smooch on Murray—just grateful.

Thanks again for everything.

Craziest Week Ever

mihow — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 20:50:00 +0000

This week is likely to turn into the most insane week ever. We’re scheduled to move in seven days. (I have been working on a post for a while regarding the move, but can’t seem to find the time to finish it. In a nutshell, we’re staying in Brooklyn but moving to a less contaminated, easier to use 2 bedroom, two bathroom apartment. It’s a long, long story. I will share it soon.) Toby’s birthday is Thursday and I have not one, but TWO freelance projects to finish up this week. Oh, I’m also a full-time mom, one who has yet to find a local babysitter.

I may have gotten myself in over my head. Cross your fingers for me, Internet.

The good news is we’re moving out of the highly toxic area of Greenpoint and into the wallet-raping Williamsburg area. But hey, we’ll have a view, a washing machine AND a dishwasher. (The article above is from the NYT and it’s a little disturbing.)

If I make it through this week in one piece and without the use sedatives, I will reward myself with another piece of chocolate covered carrot cake from Fabiane’s, which may sound truly disgusting, but is actually quite delectable. I have been craving it every day since we met.

Suicide Is Painless. Bailouts Are Not.

mihow — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 19:08:00 +0000

After the week we’ve had here in America, I think the flier I saw last week may need to be updated.

Suicide isn’t the answer at all. The United States government is.

I have ranted about this to the people I know. I have gone on tangents inside my own head for weeks now. And I know that I’m going to come off as someone who is resentful and jealous. I’m going to sound bitter and scornful.

And perhaps I am all of that. Truth be told, I feel very much the same way about the financial stuff going on right now that I do whenever I see people using the shoulder to cheat a traffic jam thereby making it worse. I feel the same type of anger and unfairness I experience whenever I see someone doing 55 in a 25 with total disregard for everyone else.

I’m frustrated by all those who took out mortgages they couldn’t afford from even greedier banks.

There have been moments recently I have wished we had done something entirely stupid and accepted a mortgage we couldn’t afford. Everyone else was doing it, right? What’s another foreclosure? What’s another declaration of bankruptcy? Why not gamble with our financial stability like so many others have? Why not sit back and hope that it works out?

Why not?

Because we’re cautious. Perhaps we’re a little too cautious because now that so many American banks are in financial tailspins hoping our government throws them a parachute, there’s a pretty good chance we won’t be getting a mortgage anytime soon.

And that’s my question to no one. Are we, as first-time home buyers, going to be penalized because we played things by the book? Are we going to be overlooked now because we weren’t seduced by a high-paying, or sub-prime mortgage back then?

To all those who want less government intervention, less regulation, less bureaucracy: look around you. This is a perfect example as to why your ideal world is an impossibility. When choosing between a high-risk gamble and being conservative many people opt for the former. Just watch one episode of “Deal or No Deal” and you’ll see how greedy and stupid people can be. We need intervention. We need help.

We don’t even have enough personal restraint to get our chubby hands out of the deep fryer, and we get pissed off whenever the government suggests adding calorie count to a menu. (Whatever happened to making informed decisions?) Due to the rising cost of cigarettes, some smokers are now demanding that government pay for their nicotine patches, gum, whatever. (Why should I have to pay for someone else to quit smoking? No one helped me quit.) People were told to leave Galveston, Texas a week before Ike hit. Many chose not to. Two days later, they were begging for help on camera.

We are children in need of adult supervision. We lack the willpower to say no. We need a guardian to step in and make sure we’re don’t kill ourselves, financially or otherwise.

So, I’m going to be honest today. I am a little resentful. I am a little frustrated. I am shaking my head at all those who stepped outside their means, and at the banks for allowing them to do so. And even though I agree with what many are saying—that government intervention is needed right now so that our teetering financial stability doesn’t come crashing down—I can’t help but want to wag my finger at the government as well. Where were you when the banks were giving money to people who couldn’t pay it back? Where were you when people were buying houses they couldn’t afford?

I’m actually one for government regulation. I like knowing how many calories are in my banana nut muffin. And I don’t mind paying taxes to make sure that people are able to eat, get the healthcare they need—whatever. I have always felt that as a society we’re only as good as our weakest member. We need to look out for one another.

But I’d be lying if I said that this member of society isn’t angry.

If You Get Caught Between a Loan and New York City.

mihow — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 20:12:00 +0000

I wrote to HGTV on Friday night. Can you believe that? I am desperate. We were watching House Hunters. I turned to Tobyjoe and said, “Call them and tell them to find us a house.”

“Do it. Write them.”

“Nah. Kidding.”

“That’s how it happens. People are sitting around, frustrated, they send an email and then the get on TV. Write them.”

So I did. I sent an email that will end up in the digital equivalent to a dead letter office.

Here’s the deal. To many living elsewhere, we actually can afford a pretty expensive house. There are many New Yorkers who would disagree, however, because the market here is so insanely resilient nothing ever goes down in price and instead continues to rise. It’s an enigma really. Manhattan was one of the only cities this year to rise where real estate is concerned. Pittsburgh was another. (Hello, Pennsylvania! My first love!)

To people living almost everywhere else in America, we probably sound like a big bunch of babies. And believe me, there are days where I have to stop myself from throwing a temper tantrum. To those who can afford to buy near Manhattan, however, we’re actually at the low end of the financial spectrum. To prove this point, I called a Westchester based Weichert agent last week and when I gave her our price range, she hurried our call. But not before reassuring me she’d call me back the following day. She never called. This isn’t the first time this has happened. We’ve been ignored by several agents because of how little we can afford when you compare it to the majority of the buyers around New York. Just today we were told by another agent that we simply must stop looking in her area based on our price range.

Agents just don’t want to waste their time on us. I can’t say I blame them. But my goodness does it ever make me angry sometimes. I feel totally defeated.

In order to buy a house in the city or close by, one must sacrifice safety, (in most cases) the quality of schools, the house’s structure, size or both. A lot of “affordable” options are total gut jobs. The house across the street from our apartment (which was advertised as a total gut job) sold for 800,000.

We don’t have that kind of money or time to devote to our living quarters.

We did discover some neighborhoods in New Jersey that worked but we were scared off by the taxes (one of the houses we looked at had an annual property tax of 12,000), the crime rate and/or the school system. Plus, like what you see happening here in Brooklyn, most all of the time the houses we could afford out that way needed a lot of work.

Again, we don’t have the money right now or time to renovate or even upkeep, which is precisely what we were looking at in Maplewood.

Then there’s the loan/down payment fiasco. In the city, you need at least 10% down, a lot of the time 20%. Most houses in our area sell for 700,000 and up. Even if we could afford that (which we can not) we don’t have the down payment. We don’t have 100 grand to put down on a house in order to make our monthly payments close to affordable.

If we buy in a safer neighborhood outside of the city (we’re talking an hour’s commute by train) and forego the down payment (which I’m not sure any bank will allow for these days) we would suddenly qualify for a jumbo loan. The interest rate is phenomenally high. That’s irresponsible and quite frankly, we simply can’t do it. If anything were to pop up (an appliance dies, flooding in the basement, termites, whatever) we’d have to use credit to pay things off. I think that’s irresponsible.

On Saturday we went even further out. And guess what? The houses are still very expensive. In some cases, the property taxes went down, and the houses were in much better shape, but they were a lot smaller and more expensive than what we were seeing in Maplewood, South Orange, and West Orange. We liked several of the homes we saw. But again, the lack of a sizable down payment to keep us out of jumbo loan territory stops us every time.

We have discussed downsizing our rental here in Brooklyn and buying a house two hours or more outside the city just to get some equity. But the rents here have gone up almost as much as the mortgages. We can’t afford both a mortgage (even a really cheap one) and rent. And since the rents have gone up so much in our area, finding another rental would mean not being able to save defeating the purpose entirely.

We’re stuck. Not to sound dramatic, we’re basically being asked to leave.

Why am I writing today? I’m not sure. Perhaps so I can one day look back on all of this and say, Thank goodness that’s all over! Because the indecision is killing me. Our inability to buy a place in a city that I have called home since 2000 is really just heartbreaking. Perhaps I’m writing because I hope that someone out there is in the same situation, misery does love a little company, after all.

And I’ll admit it. There’s a small part of me (the same part of me who buys a lottery ticket once every three years) who hopes that by some magical twist of fate my words will fall upon the ears of some real estate bigwig, someone who can step in and assist us, let us know what we may be overlooking. Because I have no idea how to make this work. This just isn’t my area of expertise.

Our lease is up in December and we still have no idea where we’ll be living. I can’t even begin to explain the amount of stress Tobyjoe and I are enduring based on that fact. And all the while we’re trying to raise our astonishingly happy son.

If houses were bought on smiles alone, we’d have thousands thanks to him.

Digital Sausages

mihow — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 22:18:00 +0000

There’s a digital clock at the top of our stove. Each number is made up of digital sausage links. They’re curveless and rigid but they do the job. Twos look like backwards fives, threes like eights without Western borders.

When we first moved in, the stove was brand new and so the clock was as well. It worked well. Each sausage did its job. Together, they made up numbers.

About three years ago, our oven just stopped working. For no reason, just stopped working one day. I turned it on to 400 degrees gleefully anticipating a homemade pizza, and a half hour later it was still cold. We did what all renters do, we called our landlord.

When the repairman arrived, he sold our landlord on a warranty. Included in that warranty was the clock, which had had recently lost the top digital sausage making up the second number. I remember when it happened too. I remember trying to figure out why it was so dark at 4 PM.

The repairman didn’t have the parts to repair the clock. “You’ll have to schedule another visit. But you should know that you have a warranty. The clock’s included.” He said. “The light, too.”

Due to my Easy Bake Oven and Shrinky Dink days, and the fact that I really enjoy watching things cook, change, grow, shrink, melt, move, and brown like old paper, the light burned out a few months after we moved in.

It’s been dark ever since.

We’re outgrowing our apartment. And for the life of me, I cannot figure out who is buying up all the real estate in our neighborhood, who can afford to. I have asked a few people and no one ever really gives me a straight answer. I’m still asking.

Who is buying up all these condos and houses?

I’m still very much in the dark waiting for an answer.

But it was only recently that I began to realize that we actually have to leave here, that it’s not really a choice anymore. It’s becoming a necessity. We don’t have the room here for a toddler. And it’s not safe.

But I think the moment that I realized that we simply had to leave, was right around the time my son turned 9 months old. We were two hours north of the city and we watched him touch green grass for the very first time.

I said to Tobyjoe, “Do you realize this is the first time Em has touched grass?”

Neither one of us said another word.

Truthfully, I have no idea how to make this work. As much as I want to, as much as I’d like to, as much as we should be able to, we have no way of making this work. And up until recently, I haven’t been willing to accept that fact.

The clock on our stove has become a failure at its only function. We don’t even try and guess what time it is anymore. And at some point during the last two years, three more digital sausages burned out. I always thought I might catch one of the sausage’s final, parting moments. But other than that minor amusement, it’s been useless for a while.

What good is a clock that can’t tell time? What good is a clock that’s slowly dimming over time—quite literally?

Last night I was baking a homemade pizza when I paid our barely functioning clock a brief glance. I noticed that yet another link had gone dark. And with a chuckle it occurred to me that I may have had its function wrong all along. Perhaps it’s not there to tell us what time it is at all, or, at least not in the usual sense. Perhaps it’s letting us know in its own special way—through the dimming and eventual darkness of individual digital sausages—how much time we have left.

OUTBID!

mihow — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 22:59:00 +0000

Our bid was accepted. We were to enter attorney review today. Another offer came through 15 grand higher. We were given the option of meeting that offer and have declined. (We simply cannot afford to pay any more). We are back at square one. We don’t have a place to live come July. I wish I could say I was disappointed, but I’m not. I’m actually a little angry and anger isn’t an emotion I’m accustomed to. Not sure what to say. Think we might find another place to rent if something doesn’t happen soon.

^{I’m going to open comments after all to potentially start a dialogue. Judging by the number of email I have gotten in such a short amount of time, I thought it might learn us all something. Maybe.}

Edited to add: I have addressed the “offer less and then negotiate” issue regarding this house in the comments section. :] I hope this helps.

Ain’t Got A Home.

mihow — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 23:05:00 +0000

We didn’t get the house we put an offer on. And even after we said we’re not the bargaining type (meaning, we’ll never accept a counter, that the amount we offer upfront is the amount we’re comfortable with) the sellers came back with a counter. And the counter was more than our real estate agent said they’d settle for. I’m thinking one of two things took place: either they are really that arrogant and/or stupid, or they got an offer closer to what they’d settle for and figured they’d have nothing to lose asking us to go higher. Nevertheless, we feel we offered them a fair price and have said no to their counter.

OK, so, this whole house buying thing is and has been an emotional roller coaster. They now HAVE accepted our offer. We’re going into attorney review tomorrow. I’m not going to get my hopes up — I made that mistake last time — but it looks like we may become homeowners soon. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

On Sunday Tobyjoe and I did something neither one of us would have agreed to a year ago. We went to a couple of open houses for the condos going up all over Greenpoint and Williamsburg. (Remember this?) I’m not sure why, really, anything we need (size) is too expensive. Most of them looked exactly how you’d imagine, which is to say trendy and cookie-cutter. But there was this one…

I actually really liked one of them. I even pictured myself living there. Granted, we’d have to sell the baby in order to afford it, which seems silly since one of the reasons we like it is because it happens to be in one of the best public school districts. It also has an elevator that delivers its occupants directly into their apartment. Do you have any idea how appealing that is to me right now? After spending 8 months lugging a baby, a diaper bag, and whatever other baby things I need up three flights of stair just to take my son outside? Orgasmic!

They also had balconies, an added bonus for those of us who haven’t had access to an outside space since college.

I don’t know what to say. I’m deflated. I’m sick of driving around each and every weekend to look at overpriced, sometimes rundown properties with annual taxes of ten thousand dollars plus. Factor in crime statistics, resale value, size of lot, garage space (or lack thereof), driveway space, walking distance to anything (we would rather not depend on a car), public school rating, oil tank burials, commute time (and price), and you’re left wondering why any member of the middle class chooses to buy a place at all.

One of the places we looked at (and it wasn’t cheap) is three blocks from the apartment complex that housed one of the shooters from this heinous murder. Yes, that’s in Newark. The murder took place there as well. No, we weren’t looking to move to Newark. Yes, one of the neighborhoods we’re looking at borders one of the most dangerous places in America. I am left thinking that denial must play a huge role in how some folks agree to buy what they buy.

And I’m thinking that choosing to read this book right now was a bad idea. (Anyone commuting to NYC from Southern Virginia?)

Should we continue to rent? Am I just having a bad week? I am still sick, 8 days and counting. Do I sound like a broken record?

Do I sound like a broken record?

Updates On Random

mihow — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 19:20:00 +0000

Let me begin by saying I have had too much coffee this morning. Couple that with the Sudafed and I’m completely out of my mind on speed.

The baby is down for his morning nap and so I’m going to try and squeeze in a few paragraphs.

Let’s see, I’m still sick. It’s been five days and I still feel awful. The first few days were brutal, however. I had hives and I was freezing no matter what I put on. I could barely keep up with Emory. Having to go to work sick is one thing but being a mom and taking care of a baby is far, far worse unless, of course, your job is taking care of babies or kids.

To top it all off, we still don’t have a place to live come June 30th. If that doesn’t scare the pants off someone, I don’t know what will. As of right now, I have no idea where we’ll be living when Emory celebrates his first birthday. Perhaps that’s why my body is having trouble shaking this sickness, stress induced hives? If all else fails, we’ll move into The Hobo Nest.

We do have an offer in on a house we really like but we’ve been told they are planning on countering out offer, which we will not agree to. The house is awesome, sure, but it lacks a garage, the basement is unfinished, there is no real yard (it’s small compared to all the rest), and the attic is unfinished. (Many of the houses in that area have finished basements and/or attics.) I think we offered a fair price and I think that if they don’t accept it, they’re going to find themselves paying the difference in two mortgages. We’ll see, but I’m not getting my hopes up, not this time.

Real estate is a strange business and real estate agents make me feel a little sad. Lately, I have had the scene from American Beauty in my head. You know the one where Annette Bening is shown in the middle of a very dated looking home declaring that she “WILL SELL THIS HOUSE TODAY!” while she’s down on all four scrubbing its surfaces.

I swear to you I could smell the desperation.

I have been reminded of that scene a lot lately especially as we trudge through some homes and listen to these poor real estate women (yes, they’ve always been women for us) try and ignore all the horrible things. I have no idea how they do it. The whole experience makes me feel really sad sometimes, sad for everyone—the agent, the people who once lived there, the people who will, the emptiness. What good is a home without voices?

Ah well.

Our Emory is incredible. He’s now pulling himself upright. Everywhere. I discovered this one day by interrupting a potentially dangerous moment. We put Emory down for a nap. He was fussing and fussing and fussing and then he just stopped, just like that, silence. I peeked into his room to check things out and there he was, standing upright in his crib, arms holding onto the top bar. A mere head-thrust forward and he would have toppled out. Needless to say, his mattress was lowered immediately. And I get the feeling he’s going to skip the whole proper crawling thing and move directly from commando baby to standing upright and walking.

It’s Friday. It’s raining and I am dead tired.

House: Take Two

mihow — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 16:59:00 +0000

It appears there could be a potentially HUGE problem regarding the underground oil tank that will keep us from actually buying the house. I plan on discussing this further today but I have to feed the baby first. Heh. So, we may not be homeowners yet. We may back out of this entirely.

Tell me, why? Why did people think it was a good idea to bury oil tanks? I got so worked up last night and then I spent an hour thinking about all the environmental faux pas we’re currently committing that our kids and our kids’ kids are going to have to deal with once we’re dead and gone.

More later. And happy Good Friday.

Later…

We were told by our real estate agent that the whole oil tank fiasco is the leading cause of contracts falling through. During attorney review, the buyers request that the sellers have the oil tanks removed at seller’s expense and the sellers refuse. The deal ends swiftly. We’re looking at this house as a place to raise a family, sure, but we also don’t want to find that our ground is contaminated and we’re potentially in the hole (no pun intended) hundreds of thousands of dollars. I realize that’s a worst case scenario, but when planning for one’s future, one can never be too careful.

Here’s the bigger stinker: this particular oil tank isn’t just underground, it’s beneath the basement as well. Digging said tank up, or testing the soil, could prove to be one gigantic pain the ass for whoever decides to take on said feat. Not only do you have to pay to dig up the tank (which isn’t all that pricey alone) but you have to dig a giant hole in the basement, test the soil, wash the soil out (if there is any contamination) and then put the basement back together again. Scary, is the first and only word that comes to mind.

I wrote this before we entered attorney review and learned more about what lies beneath:

“We have a screened in porch that runs the entire length of the house. I am looking forward to turning it into a sanctuary for the entire family. (I envision plants, bird feeders, creaky rocking chairs, candles, and maybe a designated spot to practice yoga.) I can’t wait to listen to the chorus of crickets from that porch, let my cats curl up into fat furry balls at my feet on that porch, grow more wrinkles on that porch. I can’t wait to sit outside on hot summer nights, sipping a glass of chardonnay to wash down my Grand Old Man with my grand old man.”

I took the rose colored glasses of yesterday and am now willing to accept (as egirl put it) having to kiss a few more frogs first.

Good Things Are Coming Our Way.

mihow — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 01:14:00 +0000

Crazy day.

Between The Mountain Goats show this evening, Emory’s doctor’s appointment, and my mother visiting, I haven’t had a lot of time to write. But I wanted to take a minute to say that today we became homeowners.

The Mountain Goats are going to sound so much more sweet this evening. And my life gets better each and every day.

I think I’m in shock.

Edited to add: I wrote this yesterday flippantly and excitedly, however, we aren’t actually homeowners. Yet. Technically, we’re in attorney review and there’s still a lot to work out before we sign the deal. This could fall through. I feel I need to correct myself. Plus, I hate getting excited about something to only be let down. Assume the worst! ;]

The Things You Learn

mihow — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 20:28:00 +0000

Did you know that the three most expensive counties in the United States where property taxes are concerned are Ocean County, Essex County, and Westchester County? It’s a fact. And we looked at houses in one of those counties yesterday.

Toby and I went to look a houses in Maplewood, New Jersey yesterday. We fell in love with the town. Of course we fell in love with the town, to live there, homeowners pay anywhere from 7,000 dollars per year on taxes, all the way up to 11,000 dollars a year and that’s for smaller lots. The bigger the lots, the higher the taxes. The taxes don’t even include trash pickup or sewage costs.

Let’s say you get your mortgage down to 2,000 bucks a month. Awesome, right? Add on water, heat, sewage, property tax, trash pickup, commuting expense and any insurance you need and you’re suddenly well into the 4 thousand dollar range. Well, we can’t afford that, not on one salary. We come nowhere near that. I’d have to go back to work, which I think I might be OK with, but that means adding another expense to the list for childcare.

At one point on Sunday morning, I decided suddenly (in the middle of a yoga class) that we were moving back to the Washington, DC area and into rural Maryland where houses are a little cheaper and we’re surrounded by close friends with kids. (I was fed up. I had a moment.)

I get the feeling we’re going to see a whole bunch of crap before we find something we’re willing to buy. One of the places we saw yesterday was just awful. Not only was it poorly built and falling apart, but the person living there was filthy and did nothing to try and clean it up. I fail to understand how and why people choose to live that way. Do people have that little pride in what they own? I have watched people on our Brooklyn street clean their SUVs with a toothbrush. Do they give the same care to their houses? All but two of the houses we have seen have been disgusting. One of them was covered in dog piss. I have no idea how real estate agents keep a smile on their face while trying to sell some houses. They should win Oscars or join professional poker tournaments.

But I don’t want to sound totally negative. We did see one house that was well out of our price range that I fell in love with. Its only downfall was that it has an underground oil tank, which is proving to be a big headache for many homeowners in Jersey. Everything else about the house was outstanding. I immediately began putting my furniture into each one of its rooms. It was a lovely house.

In spite of the pricey real estate we looked at, my weekend was really quite great. Emory has exited The Screaming Baby Phase and has entered Sweet Baby Phase. He’s even starting to amuse himself for extended periods of time with all the new toys we got him from Haba and elsewhere. Although, for the first day or two he was more into the Haba catalogs than the actual toys. I think he’s been taking hints from the cats. If I have learned anything from cats, it’s that the more you spend on something, the less they’re likely to use it.

I went to yoga twice and I can barely use my arms today. I cleaned the apartment. I showered twice. I even shaved my legs. It’s been a wonderful couple of days and I can’t thank you all enough for your words of encouragement. You helped me (again) more than I can possibly say. I bookmarked that post so the next time Emory and I have a rough week together, I can remind myself that I’m not alone and that things will get better and always do.

UPDATE Comments are broken. Once they are up and running again, I’ll turn them back on. So sorry if you posted one and it got lost somewhere. Fixed!

Discouraged.

mihow — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 21:53:00 +0000

We went to look at houses last Saturday. What a disappointment. I am appalled by how some people keep their homes, or don’t keep their homes. And I’m not talking a mess here and there (which is also a bit shocking considering they are trying to sell it during what I hear is a buyer’s market.) I’m talking about upkeep, filth, etc. We saw one house (the one I was most excited about from the pictures) that had pools of dog piss throughout the kitchen. I’m not sure what I felt worse about; the fact that someone cared so little for their house or so little for their dog. The poor dog barked crazily from a cage in the basement the entire time we were there.

And the walls were crumbling, the ceiling too. The rooms were filthy. The rugs were covered in stains. I can’t even begin to tell you how beat up and ugly this house was. It’s a shame.

We saw four in total. One of them I didn’t even want to go into. It was a flip and I left wanting to call the person who “flipped” it and verbally tear them up. Who in their right mind would assume anyone would want to buy a house like that? The work was shoddy. The floors which were laid over top of some other monstrosity and didn’t meet up to the walls. I pictured dirt and grime collecting in the crevices within one week of living there. The walls were fake wood paneling. This house was a perfect backdrop for where bad things happen to small children.

We looked at another house that could have been nice if the people living there cared at all. The rugs were stained, the walls were painted dark colors and not done well at all. The husband (a-stay-at-home) is an artist, a jack of all trades. In the 15 minutes we were there, he told us he was a writer, a painter, a musician, a writer of poetry, a sculptor and the house reflected his focus in life.

We saw one house that had potential. It’s nearing foreclosure. Right now it’s in something called a short sale. If things work out the way the potential buyer wants, the house could be had for 100 grand less than what it’s worth. But it hinges on everything working out just so. The woman who currently owns the house has to write a letter stating why she’s unable to pay for the house; it’s basically a letter begging the bank to go easy on her. So, if a buyer is willing to pay a certain amount, the bank may agree to sell it and avoid foreclosure. But the woman living there has zero incentive to write the letter because her credit is already ruined. You see, she slept with the guy she and her husband hired to fix up the basement. Her husband found out and left her. The house was in her name because her husband’s credit was so bad at the time they bought the house. She’s a single mother and can’t afford it alone. Her credit is destroyed. She is renting. So, if we offered her some cash, I bet she’d write that letter but it’s all so messy and who knows if the bank will agree to a short sale. It’s a mess. It’s about as messy as this paragraph.

We’re discouraged. If the houses are nice, the schools are awful and/or the neighborhood borders a ghetto. When there’s a check cashing place and a liquor store equipped with shopping carts within 5 blocks of the neighborhood, I lose interest. If the houses are nice and the schools are good, the taxes are 11 thousand dollars a year. Tack on 500 extra tax dollars a month onto an already high mortgage and we’re suddenly unable to afford that neighborhood.

I’m not sure what we’re going to do. I guess we’ll keep looking. We’re opening up our scope a bit further to include Upstate New York as well as Connecticut. At the rate we’re going, we’ll end up in Eastern, PA (near the Quaker schools! yea!) and TobyJoe will have to commute two plus hours to and from work.

This is an example of my ideal house and terrain.

Too bad it’s in the middle of Virginia and the nearest job is almost two hours away.

Maybe I’m cynical. Maybe it’s my hyperthyroidism. Maybe I’m right. But I am not sure how the middle class can afford to live near New York City and send their children to a decent school at the same time. I have to be missing something. There must be something I’m missing.

Backing Away From the Fall.

mihow — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 20:45:00 +0000

Sometimes I realize that I write about something and then I never, ever come back to it. So, if you’ve been following along (poor thing), you may suddenly ask yourself, “Wonder what ever happened to that parking ticket?” Well, today’s post is going to put an end to some of those cliffhangers.

OUR LANDLORD WOES

I am happy to report that our landlord woes have come to an end. After a not so pleasant email correspondence (one with us in the right) we won. It ended with a sweet-as-can-be phone call. Here’s the short story. We agreed to a three month out two years ago. (We’ve been here for four years. We’re awesome tenants. I mean that.) The clause was written into our lease just incase we made an offer on a house. Well, this year, out of the blue, our landlord said they didn’t want to give us that option (but didn’t tell us they removed it) and that we’d either have to sign an year lease or get out. We don’t want to sign a year lease because this is going to be the year we buy a house. There was some back and forth, some really bad logic on their part (not wanting to find tenants more than once a year, and in the winter, which, unless Al Gore’s projections are right, will be the case always since our lease is up on December 4th.) We pointed out their bad logic. (This is getting too long.) Nutshell: We were right. They agreed to it. They told us we have been awesome and they simply don’t wish to lose us.

Good news all around. Plus, we’re going to be homeowners by this time next year or I’m going to move in with you.

MY UNFAIR PARKING TICKET

Remember this? I got a $65.00 parking ticket accusing me of a being a dealer selling our ‘75 Volvo. They were wrong. I was right. I contested the ticket. It’s been 3 months. On Friday of last week, I got a letter stating that the judge agreed with me. I do not have to pay the ticket. (I did have to pay the one I got while giving birth, however, for an expired registration even though I had it registered but failed to put the ticket on the windshield. Ah well.) So that’s taken care of. And the Volvo has since been donated to Autism Speaks of New York City. (I miss her.)

THE HOUSE HUNT

Looks like we’re going to settle in New Jersey. We’re looking at houses this Saturday. Yay! I can’t wait to have a yard, a hose, and a floor that touches the ground.

THYROID STUFF. ANOTHER AHA! MOMENT

(This is an oldie but a goodie!)

I wrote about my shins turning themselves inside out back in 2004. We were in San Francisco at the time. The itchy, bumpy mess has happened since then a few times, usually when I’m under a lot of stress or I’m depressed. It flared up even worse right after Emory was born. I complained about it nonstop to my mother and TobyJoe. Well, check this out. (From the Grave’s Disease page Mayo Clinic Web site.)

Graves’ dermopathy

An uncommon sign of Graves’ disease is reddening and swelling of the skin, often on your shins and on the top of your feet, called Graves’ dermopathy.

Have you ever seen Chasing Amy? Remember when Banky is at the bar with Holden and he has that moment of clarity when he realizes it’s actually a lesbian bar and that Holden’s new crush is batting for the other team? Well, that’s been what I’ve been doing the last couple of days. I’m going back in time and realizing that a lot of symptoms I have had could be related to Grave’s Disease (or high thyroid levels). I have asked four doctors through the years about the skin problem on my shins. (Most recently, I talked to my dermatologist about it, the same woman who discovered the basal cell carcinoma.) Not one doctor has suggested testing for Grave’s. I have complained about heart problems (mainly palpitations and my heart rate fluctuation) and not one of them has checked my thyroid levels. (I even had a stress test done in 2005 to check out my heart.)

Crazier? The doctor who finally did test my thyroid levels actually asked me, during our first ever meeting in 2005, if I have Grave’s disease because, “your eyes are kind of buggy.” (I wrote about that meeting here but for some reason I can’t find it. My mother left a comment reassuring me that my eyes were lovely. That’s all I remember.)

What I’m saying, Internet, is this diagnosis could possibly change everything for the better. I’m manic with the possibility that I might not have to continue living the way I’ve been living for so long, which is to say erratically unhappy and happy, confused, lonely, and sometimes filled with doom. I don’t use this site to write about the dark moments. I did during my postpartum, but even then I held back. I’m hard to live with. On Monday, whenever the doctor called to say my thyroid levels were high, a moment of clarity swept over me.

On Monday I realized that I’ve been at the lesbian bar all this time. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

So, today I have a meeting with a endocrinologist. I am not sure what that entails, but I do hope he can make sense of all of this for me. Perhaps he can make me understand myself a little better. I’m not saying I do have Grave’s Disease, but something is askew and now I’ll get a chance to figure out what and why.

And maybe then I’ll learn how to feel normal again even though I’m not even sure what normal is.

THE WRAP UP

I suppose that’s it. If I’ve missed something, please let me know. If you’ve had some unanswered question, if I’ve left cliffhangers, let me know. I am not a fan of cliffhangers.

Happiness and Health.

mihow — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 01:17:00 +0000

I lied about surprises. I planned a party for TobyJoe. It was held at a local tapas restaurant here in Brooklyn. I made a cake and at around 6:30, Emory and I packed everything into the car and headed out for an evening with friends. It was 100% awesome. It would have been 150% awesome had TobyJoe not shown up before everyone else. Guests were to arrive at 7 PM. TobyJoe arrived at 7:01. There were five of us there, five out of the 17 guests who would show up over the next couple of minutes. But none of that mattered because our friends are outstanding. I could not be more pleased with the people in my life. I am so unbelievably lucky. I feel so plump today, so grateful.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to take any pictures because the spot on my body that once held a camera was reserved for our four month old baby boy. Emory was so good. He just sat there and smiled and then he fell asleep in my arms. I could not put him in the stroller without him waking up and wildly kicking his feet until I picked him up again. Emory is a very social baby. He has to be facing out when in the Bjorn. He doesn’t like to lie back in the stroller. A wrap (such as the Moby wrap) will not do. He has to be able to see everyone. (Incidentally, we have one unused Moby wrap if anyone wants it.)

He quickly became the life of the party even though it was meant to be for his father. Our beloved friend, Jen, took the only picture there is featuring all three of us.

I needed last night. I really did. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks for me. And we discovered about two hours ago, it’s about to get even crazier. We might be out of a place to live because our landlord has decided to pull some crap that I still can’t get my head around. I’m actually unable to even write about it just yet. It’s too annoying, too heartless. It has us scrambling, looking at houses in upstate NY and NJ. I can’t think of a better way to spend our holiday. Bastards.

My health has been wacky as well. I visited my primary care doctor on Monday to discuss a few things. I have had some pretty serious joint pain. It began when I was 39 weeks pregnant. It’s gotten worse over the last couple of months. I have trouble lifting Emory, especially now that he’s getting bigger. It’s worse when I’m stationary, like when I first get up. My hands ache. My feet have trouble holding me up. I hobble to his bedroom and then I struggle to lift him. And my hips feel like they’re grinding one another at the bone. It’s not pleasant. And I’m worried that I am inheriting my mother (and grandmother’s) rheumatoid arthritis. The doctor drew blood. He’s checking for everything from Lyme Disease to thyroid problems, from rheumatoid all the way to Hepatitis A through Z. I am crossing my fingers I don’t have arthritis already.

My hair is starting to fall out. I heard that this would happen if I continued supplying breast milk. It’s happening. At the rate it’s falling out, I’m going to be bald by my 34th birthday in January.

The MOHs procedure is done and, yes, I am cancer free. But the stitches have caused me a great deal of frustration. It seems the internal stitches, the ones meant to dissolve on their own, did not. I spent almost a week watching a tiny white thread poke out of my skin. I would pull on it, and it wouldn’t give. I’d then cut it with scissors. Now, most people, most normal people, would have gone back to the doctor. Not me! I am a moron. I’m waiting until my face explodes. Contrary to how it appears in the photo I posted on Friday, my MOHs surgery has not healed as well as it should have. It hasn’t healed entirely at all.

I sound like I’m whining. I assure you, I am relatively happy these days. I could not have asked for a better baby.

I have the most amazing friends. I wish them days, years, decades full of happiness. My family is truly wonderful. And my husband is fantastic even if he does ruin surprise parties by not playing by the rules.

I’m happy. Now, if only we could find a safe place to live near the city, equipped with a pottery studio, a yoga studio, and a Quaker school. Help me get there, sweet life. Willya?

NowBlowPoMe: The Forgotten City?

mihow — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 01:48:00 +0000

I understand why people move to New York. I moved here at age 27 because I always loved it. I decided to move to New York when I was a kid and my father took us to our first ever Yankee game. He drove us right through Harlem so he could teach us a lesson and show us just how good we had it. “Not everyone lives as comfortably as you do, kids.” In reality I think he was lost. I remember riding the subway convinced that I looked more like a New Yorker if I didn’t hold onto the bars. Only tourists need to hold onto the subway bars. I actually believed that. I believed that after living in New York for a while, you figured out how to ride the subways without having to hold on.

New York was where I wanted to live. Always.

I lived in Washington, DC before. Twice, even. I moved from State College to Washington, DC. Then, I moved back to State College, back to DC, to New York City, back to DC, to San Francisco and the back to New York. Writing that down sounds perfectly insane. But I can assure you that each move made sense. For example, the first time I moved to DC was for a job that wasn’t what I signed up for. I worked there for a little over a month before calling a quits. My apartment building was depressing and bug-ridden, and so I headed back to State College with my tail between my legs. (Back then, my life kind of looked like that Ben Fold’s Five song “Steven’s Last Night in Town.”)

But We thought he was gone
And now he's come back again
last week it was funny
now the jokes wearing thin
cuz everyone knows now
that every night now
will be Steven's last night in town

DC stuck the second time because my boyfriend at the time and I did it correctly; we lived in an apartment building in the city and one that wasn’t a housing project for those on house arrest.

Toby and I left New York because we were pretty messed up over what we saw on September 11th. I know that DC isn’t exactly off the radar where terrorist attacks are concerned, but it was a change of scenery for us and were therefore able to heal quicker.

Anyway, we’ve been here for three years and we’re at the point (again) where we want to leave (again). This time we’re going about it the right way, i.e.. slowly. And we’re talking about moving to Boston or New Jersey. We’ve even discussed moving to Providence with TobyJoe commuting to Boston every day. (Is that an insane idea?)

Truth be told, we’re looking for that perfect place to live. A place where we can raise Emory without running into too much trouble, whether it be something simple like subjecting him to incessant horrific language, or something a lot more serious like high pollution, or a murder rate every New Yorker tries to ignore. We want somewhere fairly safe. But we also want him to have the ability to grow up around art and culture. (I come from an art background. I really do put a lot of stock in the arts.) We want a backyard filled with fireflies not drunk and dying polish men. We want a garden fed with uncontaminated ground water as well as public transportation.

We’re readying ourself to move again. And we’re looking for the “Forgotten City”. The city on the East coast that isn’t riddled with murder or pollution. The city on the East coast with excellent public schools and affordable housing. We want to settle down and raise our son safely. Why does that seem so hard to do right now?

^{Part of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), where one writes every day for the month of November, which is easier said than done.}

Unreal Estate: A Walk Through Greenpoint

mihow — Tue, 22 May 2007 21:10:00 +0000

To all those people who own houses: How did you do it? How were you able to buy your first one? (If you wish to remain anonymous, I am OK with that. Use a fake name if you leave a comment.)

The house you see above is for sale in our neighborhood. It was listed at 700 thousand dollars. The advertisement read: “Needs to be gutted and entirely redone.” Don’t worry, even if I had the money I wouldn’t buy this house. But every time I see something like this, I can’t help be become more and more discouraged about ever being able to afford a place of our own. Here’s our dilemma: If Tobyjoe wants to keep his job (which he really likes) it means we have to live in or near New York City. We can’t afford to live in Brooklyn. In order to do so I would have to get a job making at least 65,000 dollars a year and we’d have to pay someone to raise our kid. (Call me old fashioned, but I don’t feel right about working 60+ hour weeks just so I can pay someone to raise my son.) We certainly can’t afford Manhattan. Upstate New York is an option but we’d have to go pretty far out to afford anything. And if we do that we run the risk of raising a child who never sees his father because he’s commuting all the time. Jersey is an option we’re looking into, but houses are still quite pricey and taxes are high.

I took a walk today to get some decaf coffee from my new favorite bistro, which is located on Driggs right before Driggs crosses Manhattan Avenue. I took my camera with me to try and capture the number of massive developments going up in a very small area.

(Descriptions are above each picture.)

A sliver from a map of Greenpoint. The red stars represent buildings that are already occupied or buildings currently being erected. The yellowish stars are those to come. (Meaning, they are currently applying for permits, being bulldozed, etc.)

See number 1 on the map above. The building shown below is the most perplexing of all. The top floors not only have a view of BQE traffic but its inhabitants get to inhale the toxic fumes from it as well. The bottom floors get to see underneath the BQE where the car service guys hang out 24/7, the crackheads get their fix on, and the trash piles up like filthy tumbleweeds.

Pricing: Here is the building. Cheapest unit is listed for $249.000, most expensive is $389.000.

See number 2 on the map above. OK, so the building below is one of the first and it’s pretty tame considering. We were kind of intrigued by this one at one point because the roof deck looks amazing. Plus, I think at the time we moved in it was still affordable.

See numbers 3 and 4 on the map above. I have a huge crush on the one on the right. (Yes, you may not be able to see it here, but these are two separate buildings.) Anyway, I dreamed of having a place there because it overlooks the park. There isn’t a chance in hell that the city will give up that view to another developer, which also explains why the prices in this building were so high. (I used “were” here because they sold out in seconds so I’ve been told.)

Pricing: 297 Driggs Avenue: The building features one-bedroom units starting at $569,000 and two-bedrooms with private outdoor space going for up to $1.1 million. Twelve of the 14 apartments will have balconies overlooking McCarren Park.

See number 5 on the map above. They put up permits recently and the businesses that were once there have moved out. So now the folks who purchased a place in either of the two buildings I showed previously will lose their back views.

See number 6 on the map above. This building is pretty modest. They also have killer roof decks. They sit directly across from the park. I envy a lot of these people for that very reason.

See number 7 on the map above. Going up on Eckford and Manhattan Avenue. Found this blurb about pricing:

Pricing: “The 32-unit luxury building by Tahoe Development contains 28 two-bedroom rentals going for $2,500 a month, and four duplex penthouse condos asking $1.2 million each. Occupancy is scheduled for fall 2006, the Post reported.” (The Real Deal.)

See number 8 on the map above. Lots of windows on these guys. They kind of look like beach condos to me. Not sure why.

Pricing: “49-61 Engert Avenue: Traditional two-bedroom units from $649,000, two-bedroom garden duplexes from $725,000 and three-bedroom penthouse units starting at $955,000. Slated for occupancy in December, the building has already sold 19 of its 24 units.”

See number 9 on the map above. To be honest, I didn’t’ even know these were being built. There are so many of them, I must have gotten them confused with another.

See number 10 on the map above. Again, didn’t know about these and they are a few blocks from where I live.

See numbers 11 and 12 on the map above. I didn’t walk all the way over to these two. They are monsters overlooking McCarren Park. They are a bloody fortune so I’ve been told. Last Thursday, someone had rented a giant spotlight to lure the eye of the masses – the rich masses of course.

See number 13 on the map above. This is a 13-story condo being erected in our back yard. Our evening sunsets are a thing of the past. I don’t know who would want to buy a place that costs so much and has a view of the BQE on ramp. No idea how much these will run. The space is entirely too new.

See number 14 on the map above. Not a great shot because (as you can see) I was in the middle of the one of the deadliest streets in Brooklyn. But these monsters are going up on the other side of the BQE.

If anyone out there knows the exact prices of the condos shown above, please do share them. ~~I will try and find the information out on my own, but I get a little overwhelmed with this sort of thing. I am not even sure where or how to begin looking for that type of information.~~ (I found some, not all, but some.)

The Cost of Living. (Bumped to the Top.)

mihow — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 02:00:00 +0000

We had a conversation on the back deck overlooking a great big lake surrounded by southern firs and humidity. The sun, as if shy from what it had done the night before, was just starting to show itself again. It was Thursday, the 5th day of our vacation. I was up before 7 AM, a feat I find impossible during the workweek. I had woken to the sound of crickets and frogs just like I had every other morning. But on Thursday it was different; it had rained the night before so their chorus was much more robust, the soundtrack to happiness.

“So, where do you want to move?” He broke our silence.

“That’s funny, I was just thinking about going back to New York.”

“Yeah?” He sipped his coffee.

“Pretty soon, the sound we hear now will be replaced by horns, sirens, and inaudible subway announcements. I love New York City but…” I stopped talking.

“I know.”

“The longer you’re away from it, the more you begin to realize that it’s kind of bullshit.”

“Yeah.”

The sun was just about ready. And our vacation neared its end. My skin still smelled like chlorine from the swim we had the night before. Probably the sheets did as well. A boat horn sounded in the distance.

“Yeah.”

Mihow » real estate

The Drama Never Ends

Related posts:

The Update About Living.

Related posts:

Our View For 2009

Related posts:

Craziest Week Ever

Related posts:

Suicide Is Painless. Bailouts Are Not.

Related posts:

If You Get Caught Between a Loan and New York City.

Related posts:

Digital Sausages

Related posts:

OUTBID!

Related posts:

Ain’t Got A Home.

Related posts:

Updates On Random

Related posts:

House: Take Two

Related posts:

Good Things Are Coming Our Way.

Related posts:

The Things You Learn

Related posts:

Discouraged.

Related posts:

Backing Away From the Fall.

Related posts:

Happiness and Health.

Related posts:

NowBlowPoMe: The Forgotten City?

Related posts:

Unreal Estate: A Walk Through Greenpoint

Related posts:

The Cost of Living. (Bumped to the Top.)

Related posts: