(Hey there, btw. I realize I have been slacking on this whole writing in this blog that I love and miss and think about all the time but have been a little busy for. Never fear. I’m back, bitchezzz..)
OK so in 2014, a few major things happened.
Numero uno: I turned 30.
Dos: I bought a friggin’ condo.
Three: I got myself a puppy.
Yeah it was a bit of a busy year. So busy, in fact, that I still haven’t gotten curtains for my living room. But, the blog’s higher on the priority list right now. I can live without curtains a little longer. I’m almost never naked in my living room.
Today we’re gonna talk about home ownership. Because I know about it now. (No worries, the next entry will have the puppy pics…I know my audience).
So about this time last year I started making serious efforts to get out of the parents’ basement. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to live with them or because they did anything to make me want to go. It wasn’t because I didn’t want roommates or free Showtime…
A personal goal I set was to not be 30 and living in the basement of my parents’ house. If my birthday came and went and I was still there, it better only be because I was waiting on closing on my new place.
And wouldn’t ya know it, third time is the charm. The third time looking for a place to live, I mean.
A family friend from church was my realtor and had been looking off and on for places for me the year I lived with my parents. My ignorant-of-real-estate self only wanted a townhouse for a long time. And I came awfully close to getting one. But then the owner wouldn’t come down on the price and then wanted me to decide on it within like two days or else he’d rent it to someone and I can’t make decisions that fast that involve that much money.
The house-hunting process itself wasn’t too eventful, really, just nothing that I really liked for a while and one townhouse that had concrete floors on the main floor and I’m pretty sure there was a seance room upstairs.
A few years ago I looked at places and fell in love with one. And then I couldn’t afford it and figured I’d never find a place I liked that much again because I am a fatalist.
But then I saw the place I’m in now. Out the window went all my thoughts about only wanting a townhouse. My condo looks and feels like a house, and did from the first second I walked into it.
I was sold pretty close to immediately and made an offer, and wouldn’t ya know it, I could afford it. I could afford one I liked, a lot. Take that, pessimism.
I’ll not bore you with the rest of the process but I will say my hand felt broken from signing my name so many times and it’s really annoying to deal with mortgage companies because they want copies of every time you’ve ever used money, basically.
It’s still a work in progress to some extent to make it completely mine, but since I moved in May 10, it’s felt like home. We’ve already repainted two rooms and I’m planning on some flooring changes and more painting in the next couple of months. But for now, check out my crib (imagine the pictures with awesome zooming effects and maybe listen to your favorite rap song while you look at them so it’s just like MTV).