Things are moving very quickly right now.
Tuesday I got a Good Faith Estimate.
Wednesday I bought a pretty little 50¢ notebook from Michael's art supply store, walked up the parking lot to the other branch of my credit union, and met with the mortgage originator. She went through the GFE line by line, stopping while I took copious notes (she gets a lot of that, I'm sure). The number that stunned me so much turned out to be a worst-case scenario sort of estimate (highest taxes, highest insurance, 25 days' worth of interest to pay up front...), and included the down payment in it. That made it much more manageable.
After a few moments' hesitation, I flung myself into the gap and said, "All right, let's see if I can get approved."
I did, for exactly the amount she had projected. It seems like an awful lot of money to me, and I'm amazed that someone is willing to trust me with it. Apparently I have excellent credit. I'd assumed it was pretty good. After I finally paid off my student loans, I noticed a steady increase in the number of "You're Pre-Approved!" credit card applications in my mail.
I told my sister to go ahead and refer a realtor for me. I later found out that this means she'll get a piece of the commission. Might as well keep the money in the family, right?
Thursday I got contacted by J., and I told her what I want: a little townhouse on a bus route.
Friday she sent me 18 listings either on or near a bus route, all in my price range. A couple of 'em are more towards the top end...but there you are.
Saturday I did something totally unrelated with the Chief Loon over in Bellefonte. Research and picture-taking for an event the Loons are putting together for this spring or summer.
I've spent this afternoon using mapquest and the area transit authority's web site to see a) where these houses are; b) what routes are nearby; and c) how nearby is "nearby?"
All right, I admit it. I'm a question mark.
Occasionally I catch myself saying things like, "Oooooh, it has a basement!" I don't need a basement. I've looked around my apartment and I realize that once I get myself into a 2- or possibly 3-bedroom townhouse with all my stuff, I'm going to rattle around the place like a seed in a gourd.
To answer some of the comments to the previous post: G., sorry, but I think I'm going to do exactly what your daughter did. I've been in the area for approximately 20 years. I think it's safe to say I'm staying. If I want to move, I'll sell the house. I know there's a lot of maintenance involved with owning a home (been watching my parents for years), but I think I can handle it. I figured it out yesterday and my conservative estimate is that over the past 15 1/2 years I've spent a little over $75,000 on rent, and I have nothing to show for it but a dingy little apartment and a growing sense of irritation at the way the place is managed. I've hit the point in my life where I want to have something after I've paid for it.
JustMe, Sunny is a blast. It's not her real name (no one mentioned on this blog has their real name used) but it should be. I'm pretty sure that little blue place has been snapped up. It's not in my list from the realtor. There are a bunch of places over on that end of town though, so we could still be doing the YMCA/bingo thing. Most of these places look like I'll still be right smack up against my neighbors, but that doesn't bother me. Hearing people overhead bothers me. Place I'm in now, the floorboards squeak something awful. You can hear every step, all the time. Ugh. I didn't care about that when I moved in. I just wanted somewhere to live.
Hey Ditter! Does the hubby know you just enlisted him as mover/painter? 'Cause I may just take you up on that.
This coming Thursday I have the day off from work. I'm using that time to meet with J., talk about these listings she sent me, and probably go see some of 'em.
I'm beginning to feel like I should start packing...time to hoard boxes from work.
4 comments:
WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
Yes. Hoard lots of boxes. Working where you do, all you need to do is mention your plans to your favorite folks in maintenance or operations or whatever it's called, and they'll save good ones for you. When The Oracle and I moved in here, Dennis took excellent care of me. He told me the best days to come pick what I wanted. Your IT people can be useful too, telling you when certain departments are getting computer upgrades.
You can flatten the boxes down for the bus ride home and stash them behind your sofa. When you're ready to start filling them, open them up and reinforce the flap closures with a sticky, sturdy tape. Don't be cheap with the tape. Your life is going in that box.
Those copy-paper boxes are a nice size, but you DEFINITELY have to reinforce those with tape. They fall apart on a whim.
Look at me! I have you moving out already!
For moving day, I suggest two things. The first thing is to prepare a special box for your arrival with paper plates & plastic ware, TP, paper towels, a can opener, cat food, and anything else you might find indispensable when you first walk in, like the cell phones of any helpers who might be shuttling between your apartment and your new place. That box gets clearly labeled and parked on the kitchen counter when you arrive.
The second thing should be the first thing you do on moving day itself: After putting that box on the counter, set up and make your bed. You'll be thankful for that when the day is done.
I've helped many, many people move over the years, and I've learned a lot of good things. If you wind up without a feline-minded sitter or boarding for Delilah, I have some suggestions for moving her and keeping her safe during the chaos.
Good for you, V - for once, the strange American expression "way to go" seems to have meaning.
As to being a pea in a drum, that isn't how it works. Irrespective of square footage, you only have too much space for a very short while. Then the stuff begins to take its leisured ease all over everywhere. Not enough stuff? Herds of it will scent your empty space and be drawn inexorably to fill it. This will surely come to pass.
Signed -
One Who Knows
G speaks truth.
It's nothing new, really. It's already happened to you. Think of that big Space Bag of yarn you have lurking in your apartment now. You didn't know you had so much of it until you put it all together.
That's why they say, "ignorance is bliss."
The receiving room has agreed to save some boxes for me. One of the women even offered to drive me home someday so that I don't have to schlepp 'em on the bus day after day in small increments. She lives nowhere near me, either.
Nice, huh?
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