Life Report Card: Up and Coming

Remember when I said my home buying motivation would come when I fell in love with a house and couldn't have it because I didn't have my shit together? Well, that sort of happened. Tiny little house: 2 bedrooms (barely), 1.5 bath. Perfect lack of lawn. Cute little kitchen with cabinets I could barely reach. 

The biggest issue, aside from the fact that I didn't have my financing lined up in time, was that I knew my parents would hate the neighborhood. The gangs moved in during the 80's and crime skyrocketed... but 30 years later (yup, that's how long ago the 80's were) it is, what we call in real estate, "up and coming." 

There are certainly blocks still in some turmoil, but it's the city so that's normal.  This house was on a block bookended by the public television station and some brand new lofts. There was a broken down truck parked on the street all 7 times I drove by, and also cars much nicer than my own. The lawns were well kept. The next door neighbor had a Human Rights Campaign sticker in their window. Up and coming. 

So I called my mom to tell her about the house and invite her to come see it with me in a few days.  I wanted her opinion before I decided if I wanted to make an offer. We talked size of the house, age of the house, quirks of older homes, etc. All the things it is helpful to talk through when making big life decisions. I left the conversation excited to show her the house AND the neighborhood. 

The next morning, while going 2 mph on the highway, my dad texts me "Call me." (Don't judge me.) So I did. 

Dad: Your mom and I talked this morning. Your mom's a little worried. 

Me: Oh yeah? About the house? Mom's a little worried.... 

I explained to him, like I had to her, that I wanted her to see the area and see that I'm not crazy for thinking it is perfectly safe. She'd be my litmus. He made a comment about my rebellious nature and I reminded him that despite what they thought, I didn't actually base my life decisions on rebelling against them. Sometimes their dismay at something I do (see also getting a tattoo) is just a lucky benefit, but it is by no means a driver. I'm 36 years old, for god's sake.

My dad then recommended I call a friend of his who has worked in real estate for 30+ years. 

Me: Does Kevin even work in Five Points? I thought he mostly covered JeffCo (suburban jungle outside of town). 

Dad: Well, yeah, but I'm sure he's been there. 

I said I would. Sigh. 

By the time I got to the office my agent had emailed to tell me the house had gone under contract. I was kind of heart broken, but I knew it was the risk I'd taken by not moving more quickly and, really, it was terrible timing. 

I spent that weekend travelling to Seattle with my mother. With that much time and that much wine, I got to the heart of the parental concern. What about resale value? That house is smaller than the first house your father and I bought together? And finally For that kind of money you could buy our house. 

And there we have it. In the city you can by a shoe box built in 1910 for the same price you can buy a 2000 square foot town home in the 'burbs. And I actually want a shoe box (well, a house, but a small one), but this does not make sense to them. This, in fact, suggests I am not that smart or have not thought things through. 

My credit score is over 800. That takes years of smart decisions. (Not even attempting a humble brag... I'm so damned proud of this you shouldn't be surprised to see my credit report on my fridge like an A+ on my Life Report Card), However, a single line of questioning from my mother and it feels like she still thinks I'm led by teenage emotion. And while emotions surely led me more strongly at 15 than they do now, I still was pretty methodical about what I chose to do. I just chose to do things she never would have. 

Despite her own fears, she raised me to be brave. I wonder who raised me to be a stubborn brat....

This afternoon my agent sent me a link to a home that sounded adorable. A little cheaper than I'd expect for the size and location, though, so I asked her what was wrong with it. She'd had the same thought. 

When I got home, I Googled the address and got this: 

Don't stalk me.

Oh, well, that might be the problem. (Kind of makes me want to buy it... is that the rebel in me or the adventurer?)

Note: I also Googled "Scum of the Earth Church" and it's totally a legit establishment busy being anti-establishment for Jesus. Good for them.