Ready, set, close.

Congratulations!  We are the proud/scared new owners of a real fixer upper. 

The closing went relatively quickly.  I performed my role splendidly – I brought a large check and, without complaint or query, signed every document put in front of me.  The check was instantly broken down into smaller digestible checks to feed to all the open mouths (seller, realtors, title company, water authority, school taxes, county/township taxes, attorney’s fees, etc.) – eleven in all!   

The forms are prosaically wonderful.  The seller was a bank, and one would swear that they have a whole department of struggling scriveners dedicated solely to creating the most absurd yet somehow marginally plausible documents.  It must be rather fun really.  I can picture it now, a head popping up amongst the cubicles, calling out above the din of a sea of fretfully tapping keyboards: “Listen to this. How about a ‘Signature/Name Affidavit,’ which the buyer would of course have to sign (an old joke, but knowing chuckles all around), wherein the buyer would have to certify that their legal name and signature is in fact the signature that they are using at the closing?!”  There would be hoots of admiration and approval mixed with those of jealousy, having failed to come up with such a simple, yet obvious, additional form.  Some wag might then call out, suggesting an ‘Affidavit to the Signature/Name Affidavit,’ which may get booed down as sour grapes or imitation, yet stored in the minds of many for a more appropriate later date.   

tyvek suits, respirators, gloves, and goggles for all

Check proffered, forms signed, deed recorded.  As my realtor said, this may be the deal of a lifetime.  I’m thinking it could be the death of me.  Either way, I have a feeling this blog could go on for quite some time.   

The unequivocally good news is that my nephew Evan has arrived from North Carolina. Now that the deed is done, we will start work forthwith.  I have purchased the necessary safety equipment, including tyvek suits with hoods, dust masks with mold filters, goggles, gloves, and shoe covers.  Let the demolition work begin!

I can fly?

Well, the numbers are in (kind of), and it seems feasible. The home inspector concluded that there were no structural problems, and that the roof did not leak (but that pretty much everything else was a disaster!)  I am clearly deranged for contemplating this, but at least the simple math works.  It appears that my guesstimates of renovation costs (see prior scintillating post) were not far off, and it will take about $55,000 to renovate.  If I do much of the work myself, that amount could be significantly less. As such, with a purchase price of $50,000, and a maximum of $55,000 additional into it, I should have a total investment of $105,000.  If I can sell if for at least $140,000, or clear at least $5000 a year in rent, then it works, right? 

old attic

Who knows?  On the one hand, the simple math works.  On the other hand, it seems like a spectacularly speculative guesstimate by a rank amateur that could be hideously off the mark.  But the simple math works.  Have I said that already? Perhaps it is me that is simple.  I am obviously conflicted.  I want to do it.  I am intrigued by the challenge of doing it.  However, I can’t help but think that I am like the person atop a steep drop-off, 200 years ago, encased in a contraption of feathers and light weight wood, somehow naively thinking, convincing myself, that this will work!  

Lilienthal's Glider in Flight

“When early humans attempted to fly, they mimicked birds — often with disastrous results.”  That’s what I am afraid of – disastrous results!  

I spoke with one of my brother’s about it (who lives in N.C.).  Although sympathetic to the decision dilemma, he rightly pointed out that only I can make the decision.  He also intriguingly suggested that since my 19 y.o. nephew was looking for temporary work, if I did buy it, he could help me out for a couple of weeks.  My nephew and I don’t spend nearly enough time together, only getting together for a few days twice a year.  The opportunity to spend some good quality time with ‘the boy’ would be reason enough to embark on the crazy project.

sleeping teen/ renovation helper?

Well, I have to make a decision. Since an Agreement of Sale has been signed, it is now a matter of me having to cancel the contract if I don’t want to buy the house. If I simply remain stuck in indecision, this real fixer upper will be all mine!

Under Contract

bathroom (w/ radiator in vanity)

kitchen

The asking price was $55,000. Of course one has to haggle, so I put in an offer of $45,000. After some haggling …

BRIAN: How much? Quick!
HARRY: What?
BRIAN: It’s for the wife.
HARRY: Oh. Twenty shekels.
BRIAN: Right.
HARRY: What?
BRIAN: (as he puts down 20 shekels) There you are.
HARRY: Wait a moment.
BRIAN: What?
HARRY: We’re supposed to haggle.
BRIAN: No, no, I’ve got to …
HARRY: What do you mean, no?
BRIAN: I haven’t time, I’ve got to get …
HARRY: Give it back then.
BRIAN: No, no, I paid you.
HARRY: Burt! (BURT appears. He is very big.)
BURT: Yeah!
HARRY: This bloke won’t haggle.
(Monty Python – Life of Brian)

… we arrived at $50,000.

moldy basement beam/science experiment

I now have to get inspections and estimates to see how much all of this is really going to cost!  I also have to figure out when these inspections have to be done by. According to the contracts, although the bank has agreed on a price of $50,000, they have up to 10 days to confirm this in writing. However, it appears that my time for inspections starts now, not when the contract is actually signed. From the best I can tell, I have 15 days from now to figure out whether the structure is sound, and how much all of the potential repairs will actually cost (windows, siding, plumbing and heating, electrical, mold remediation, etc). The banks don’t make it easy!

A new house?

A real fixer upper.

I work with a woman who also works part-time as a realtor.  The other day she told me about a house that was on the market – “a real fixer upper.”  In my area, as in many places, real-estate prices have been through the roof.  This made buying an investment property difficult, not only because the prices seemed to be more than they were worth, but they were way more than I could afford!  But prices are on the way down, and this place is in my price range.  

The asking price is $55,000.  We went to take a look at it.

To say that this place is “a real fixer upper” is an understatement!  It needs a LOT of work.  And by a lot of work, I mean that it needs major renovation in every conceivable way – electrical, plumbing, heating, roof, bathrooms, kitchen, mold in the basement, and floor to ceiling wear, cracks, holes and collapse.  My initial reaction is that one would have to be crazy to buy this place, unless they were going to tear it down and start over.  Or use it as a haunted house once a year. The price is alluring, but it just needs too much darn work, not including the hidden or unforeseen problems.

I love a challenge, and don’t like to think I would walk away from something just because it would be hard.   But trying to renovate this place wouldn’t just be hard … it would be insane!  Or would it?  I can’t help thinking about it.  It’s in a good location.  And it has some charm.  It is listed as being built in 1902, and has an immediate feel of solid ‘oldness.’  No, this is ridiculous.  ‘Biting off more than one could chew’ comes to mind.  However, it’s a decent size, with three bedrooms, enclosed porches on the first and second floor (creating some interesting spaces), and a few rooms downstairs.  It has potential. Too much potential!  And a basement full of mold.  Why am I still thinking about this?!