Monday, April 13, 2009

House Hunting in Whiteytown

Sean and I have decided it’s time to act like the adults we should be and purchase a house. There are many reasons behind this decision:
  1. We don’t anticipate the housing prices getting any lower than they are now (and neither does our realtor).
  2. We have baby fever. Badly. And we’d prefer to be in a house we own (and at least used to the mortgage payments) before bringing a bambino (and all of the expenses that come with them) into the mix.
  3. It finally seems like the right time – everything’s clicking.
We met with a realtor over the weekend. The initial meeting went very well – we spent a good 2 hours just talking about our loan, down payment and learned more about the real estate industry that I can remember. About three-quarters of the way in, I reached the super-saturation point - luckily Sean was soaking everything in.

Our realtor then took us on a tour of some homes in Aliso Viejo. For those not familiar, it’s a bedroom community south of where we currently live. It’s the land of strip malls and sub-division hell (which come to think of it, describes most of Orange County). How did we end up touring houses there: a series of miscommunication between myself and the realtor. I’d prefer to stay in the area where we currently live; it’s a good mix of urban and suburban. I’m not ready to move to whiteytown.

Anyways, we loaded into the realtor’s car and headed south on the 5. The further south we went, the louder my heart started to beat and the harder it became to breathe. We got off the freeway and drove by tract after tract after tract of the exact same looking house. By the time we stopped in front of the first house, I was almost hyperventilating. A single (loud) thought was coursing through my body: I cannot live here. I cannot live here. I cannot live here.

We looked at 5 properties. Each time I walked in the door, I hoped the sinking feeling would disappear; it never did. Every property we looked at was exactly the same. I felt out of place. I knew I didn’t belong there; I knew that the life I want to continue to live and to provide for my kids involves more variety, options and color. We have friends who live in these southern suburbs and god bless em: it works for them. It won’t work for us.

Over lunch with the realtor, we were finally able to tell her exactly what we wanted and the area that we want to live in. It was so liberating to finally tell her exactly where I wanted to live; I could finally breathe. I know that there are certain trade-offs we’ll have to make in order to continue living in our neck of the woods. Houses cost a little more and are a bit smaller. We’re more likely to spend the first year in the house updating it. It’ll probably take longer to find a house in our price range with the number of bedrooms we need. But, you know what, that’s fine. Bring it. We’re up for the challenge. We know what we want and we know we’ll find it.

4 comments:

Pat Groble said...

House hunting is as much emotion as practicality. You'll know when you've found THE one!

Jim Groble said...

is whiteytown next to funkytown or did i have another one of those horable 70's flashback?

sarah manville gann said...

When we walked into the home that we now own on our first visit, Bill said that a beatific glow came over my face, as if to say, I will have babies in this house.

You must hold out for this glow. It is the most wonderful feeling. 7 years and 3 babies later, still in love with this house.

Bill Gann said...

Said house kicks my ass day after day. It is much older and larger than me and the 85-year-old tube and post wiring keeps me awake at night.

But we're not ever leaving.