You Have Rails!

“I had to do a little creative maneuvering to get the rails installed, but that’s what you have to do when you hire someone with less than 24 hours notice on a Saturday,” Daphene laughs, narrating the story to me.

I love the phrase Creative Maneuvering. This entire home buying experience seems to be a study in this. I think that will be the title of my book when I finally write down all of the stories around this adventure from the past year.

In the meantime, enjoy the rails!

Lesley Anne Warren to the Rescue

“Carol!? Caaarool!!? Yooohooo?”
Damn. What the hell was the Landlady doing standing outside the cottage hollering at me? It’s 9 pm. I’ve just started the Lesley Anne Warren Serial Killer Movie in the On Demand Mode.
Shit.
What if the landlady found out I was accessing the On Demand Movie without her permission?

Better turn off Lesley Anne before I open the door.

“Carroool?” Monica’s calling is closer now, right outside the fence.
“Yes,” I answer after shutting down the TV situation.
“Hi, Carol,” she smiles, even though it’s dark, I know she is. She’s actually the NICEST landlord I’ve ever had. Not that that’s saying much, but seriously, she’s a sweetheart and tonight proved no different.
“You left your lights on on your car,” she holds the gate open for me as I emerge out of the cottage patio area.
“Oh, wow! Thanks!” I swear under my breath. Goddamn Oil Changers. Made me turn on my lights to check them and then I forgot to turn them back off since it was 7 and still light.

Actually, goddamn me. It’s my fault. Oil Changer Man was just doing his job.

I follow Monica out to the front of the house where her husband, Mathew greets me. “And here’s your mail.” He hands it to me, grinning.
“Oh, great, thanks. Wow, you guys are the best,” I manage.
“Yeah, well, we just don’t want you to leave,” Mathew continues.
Monica eyes me seriously. “You hear anything new on your house?”

I laugh. “Oh, you guys will appreciate this. You just went through all of this a year ago. You know 'bout the underwriter for the appraisal?” They both nod. Knowingly. “Well, he said that I had to install handrails on the back porch in order to fulfill the conditions of the loan or some such thing. It seems so petty and stupid.”
They both nod, still very serious. “Yeah, well, I remember when we were trying to buy this place the underwriter told us that we had to get a licensed contractor to tear down the Night Jasmine growing on the side of the house.”
“Really?”
“Go turn off your lights. Go go....” Monica urges.
I do.
“And so what happened?” I ask, returning to the spot in the dark driveway where they both are standing waiting for me.

“I asked them if I could just tear down the jasmine myself. Do I have to get a licensed contractor?" Mathew continues, warming to the narrative.
“Mathew, we should let her go,” Monica interrupts. Nervous?
Was I asking for Secret House Buying Information? Was Mathew about to divulge a tidbit that would definitely put me into the Successful Homebuyer’s Zone?

“Okay, well, thanks again for letting me know about the lights,” I add before turning to head back to Lesley Anne.
I can tell that Mathew wanted to finish the story, but then I wasn’t about to get in the middle of a wife’s bossiness power dynamic.

Back in the cottage, I rev up On Demand again and remember back to the reason why I started this whole home buying venture anyway.

The Pricklord.
Remember, Carol? He’s the reason that you started looking over a year ago. When he had the Illegal Audacity to walk into the cottage with barely a knock, letting himself in, saying he’d sent me an email (Sunday eve at 5 pm-- –what kind of 24 hour notice is that at 1 pm. the next day? It wasn’t. )

And so a HUGE Horrid Landlord Hell had ensued. The long and short of it being that I did prevail about his not letting himself into my place without 24 hour notice, but it got very nasty for several days with threatening emails from him saying he was going to evict me and my having to come back with citing California Civil Codes about giving tenants 24 hour written notice before entering their dwellings.

It was ugly.

So, yes, I do adore Monica and Mathew. They are so sweet and so considerate. (I know they would never come into the cottage without giving me advance notice) Still, they are landlords and as such have power over me.

And while I do enjoy the On Demand Cable TV and Free Pet Care, I still do know that what I’m trying to do with buying this house is the right thing in the long run.

It just feels like that Long Run will never arrive.

Thank goodness for Lesley Anne Warren’s chain smoking Feminist Poet character.

With this sort of diversion, I can make it through the next 10 days when supposedly the ‘closing’ happens. Whatever the hell that is.

Shit. I really should be doing some researches on Google about all this down to the wire house buying rigmarole.

But Lesley Anne calls to me.
I can’t resist her tough but vulnerable kick ass self.

Oh, Lesley Anne!
Why can’t you come and help me with the homebuyer’s final days? I know you’d know what to do!
Or at least you’d know how to fake it.

Something I’m no good at, but I’m working on it.

The Underwriter--Whoever the Hell That Is!

What the hell was I thinking?

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Home prices had never been so low in the Bay Area. You could buy a condo in Marina Bay for around $100,000.

And this is where it had started.

Mom had sent me some listings of these Deal Condos. And sure, they looked tempting. Why, my mortgage would be less than my rent.

But then....oh, here is where it all gets so muddled....And now?

I have to admit I had absolutely NO Clue what I was getting into.

Here it is a year later and I am so far from a little condo at Marina Bay it’s laughable. Well, I’d be laughing if I weren’t swearing.

The perfect little house could be mine. Only $150,000. 15% down of my money equals some ridiculously mind boggling amount of money—about $23,000. Yikes! My entire life savings.

Well, almost.

But it’s working right? I found the house. (Not by myself, mind you. It's been a year long search with the undaunted help of my fab Realtor and my homebuying mom)

I got the inspection. I got the loan. I got the appraisal....nope, wait, this is where I landed in Confusion Homebuyer's Land this week.

The goddamn appraisal, which even as I write this I think, why did I ever get involved in this process of buying a home?

Do I think it’s as easy as HGTV makes it out to be?

No any more.

Property Virgin I am still and if I do become a First Time Homeowner, well, give me a great big prize.

Like $4000 to fix the goddamn sewer.

But back to the appraisal that I was already pissed about since it costs me $495 ---why? What does the Appraiser do for that amount of money? I don't even want to go there....

So, I got the report. It was pages and pages of teeny tiny numbers in little boxes followed by black and white photos of my home to be......

But yet, now, I get an email from the Underwriter—what the hell is an Underwriter? Is that like the person that buries all those Literary Bodies?

Good Morning, Ms. Jameson,

The appraisers who looked at the property at 777 34th street is requiring that you install a handrail on the back rear stairs. Please let me know if you have any questions.
Have a nice day,
Suzie Duzi
Okay, I look at the above and of course the first thing I notice is the subject verb agreement error. Shit.

I’m supposed to take directions seriously from someone who can’t even write an email without a major grammatical error?

Evidently.

My next question was What the hell? Why am I responsible for installing handrails on a property that isn't even mine yet?

And I emphasize the YET.

Shouldn’t that be the seller’s responsibility?

Oh, but yeah, that’s right. The sellers are the hard –assed REOGirls of Fannie Mae. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t say anything too negative about these women. They’re just doing their job, but when my always optimistic enthusiastic realtor, Daphne, wanted to get them to pay for the $4000 sewer repair since the City of Richmond requires that the seller do this....

Well, the REOGirls just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Or at least I imagine them doing this. Sitting around their office. Drinking their huge Starbucks Specialty Coffees. Shaking their heads. “Would you get a load of this one, Shirley? She wants us to fix the goddamn sewer? Can you believe that? What an idiot! Everyone knows that the REOGirls don’t fix anything. We just sell sell sell!"

And so, with the handrails? I just assumed that I get the same reaction.

It would be up to me to install these.


So what if I’d already been told by my mortgage broker, Steve, that my loan was approved. Looks like he spoke to soon.

“Hey, Carol, I’m really sorry about this. Frankly, I can’t believe it. I mean if I thought this was even a possibility there’s no way I woulda told you your loan was approved. Hey, but it happens. And lemme tell you a story. I mean, what’s this gonna cost you? Couple hundred bucks. Hire a handyman. Have him slap up a couple of two by fours. I had this one client, she had to complete $22,000 worth of repairs before she could close the deal.”

“Yeah, well,” I try not to scream into the phone, “if it were gonna be $22,000, obviously I wouldn’t be in the running. But for me, it’s all adds up." The Inspection ($650), the Appraisal (the aforementioned $495), the sewer inspection ($200) and now the handyman rails? Another $200?

All of a sudden, I’ve run up over $1500 worth of expenses for a place that I haven’t even bought yet.

Which brings me back to the beginning: What the hell was I thinking getting involved in this home buying process?

Things keep happening and I just keep freaking out. I can't predict what's going to happen tomorrow or the next day. And Control Cat that I am--I am going CRAZY!!!!

Is this any way to spend my summer vacation?

Not that I get a summer vacation, but you know what I mean.

But I’ll keep you posted. Daphne and Steve have a plan and the REOGirls are game. Seems they’re willing to go along with an ‘addendum’ to have the seller pay for the handrails.

Of course this will come out of my escrow account, which as far as I can figure is my money, and so I’m still gonna be paying for the goddamn rails.

But hey, the stairs will be so safe now. I can have wild parties and no one will fall and break her neck.

That’s a good thing for me, right? Yeah, or for the person who may end up owning the house.

Could be me or could be some other lucky buyer.

First time homebuyer?

I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you've got nothing better to do with your time, money and sanity.....