Moving Story (2002) - Part II

Buying a new house can be very exciting. Then again, getting ready for an IRS audit can be very exciting, too. Both allow you to enjoy that sick to your stomach, I'm gonna throw-up feeling, sleepless nights and complete mental distraction. (I've come to realize that IRS, at least in my case, stands for "I'm really stupid") I haven't been able to concentrate on anything other than moving or finances for a couple of months now. I become confused and befuddled doing even the simplest things - walking, driving, speaking on the phone. I have bruises all over my body from walking into walls. The other day I got lost driving home from the storage facility I rented a few weeks earlier. I was three miles from my house, at an intersection I've driven through a thousand times. I didn't know which way to turn.

"Let's see, do I turn right or left… If I can get one-hundred forty thousand dollars equity from my house, I can pay off all my credit card bills and…"
*honk*
"Left turn it is"
I finally made it home by trial and error.

I don't know how many times I've left my desk at work to go do something, walked down the hall and forgotten what that thing was. I spend more time as a Rodin sculpture than doing anything productive. I suppose audits and moving make me feel this way because both involve fabricating financial documents that will be heavily scrutinized and I know that both are gonna cost me in the long run. At least with the IRS, I know there isn't the possibility that I won't have a place to live. The odds are pretty good that they'll be providing me with one.

So I pull myself together at least long enough to house hunt. I've toured more houses than I care to admit in recent months and I've come to this conclusion -- people are really weird. Stick your nose in enough closets and peek under enough cellar steps and this quickly becomes evident. Sure, these people are masters at blending in with us normal folks during the day. But know this - Aliens and homeowners walk among us. Take away their Arrow shirts, khaki pants and tasseled loafers, put them in their natural habitat, and they do the strangest things. "Hon, what say we stucco the tub?""Super idea, sweetie!"

More often than not, their ideas are just plain dangerous.
My all-time favorite was the draw-bridge. While house-hunting, I nearly fell to my death as I was heading out the back door because I didn't see the "bridge out" sign.
It seems the homeowner followed the building plans he found in, "The Chainsaw Remodeler". He had removed the cellar steps, left the opening in the floor, and covered it with a thin sheet of plywood that could be lowered and raised drawbridge-style by pulling a rope.
This really happened.

I've seen it all. The windows were all painted black in one house. Now that I think about it, that would explain the absence of mirrors and the "Thank you for not wearing garlic" sign. I've seen Parquet floor tiles on walls, wall tiles on floors, wood paneling in shower stalls, swing sets in the living room. It's scary. And I blame The Home Depot for this. They've fooled Joe CPA and Billy Bob bus driver into believing they're now Norm Abram. No, the rule of thumb is - If you don't own a Solar Powered Plasmatic Laser Dovetailer and Dado maker cum apple peeler like Norm - leave it for the pros!

Seeing these types of things day after day started to diminish our spirits. Were we naive to think that we could find our dream home in our price range? We sunk lower and lower.

My hopes were temporarily lifted one exhaustive Sunday after I explored the real estate a little to the west of where we are now. Just as I was about to turn around and head home, I saw an open house sign on one of the most beautiful houses I'd ever seen.
"This is a beautiful house", I said to Realtor. "The taxes must be high."
"Yes, around thirty-two hundred a year"
"Thirty two hundred?? That's dirt cheap! What town are we in?"
"Sandusky."
"That's funny, there's a town in Ohio called Sandusky"
"This is a town in Ohio."
"Of course it is."
With head hung low, I started to leave.
"Just out of curiosity, what time does the commuter train leave for Philly?".
"Tuesday."
It was a long ride home… but, a productive one.I drove past a cul-de-sac of new construction that I had never noticed before. By the looks of the one partially built house, I couldn't afford it. But I decided to go in anyway. Who knew, maybe I was in Battle Creek.

As I walked into the sales trailer, I noticed a handwritten sign offering a special deal - Be the first to make an offer on lot #15 and get it for $35,000 less. Right then, the two little guys who offer me conflicting advice appeared on opposite shoulders.
Don't get any ideas.
Don't listen to him, it's only $40,000 more than you can afford. It's a once in a lifetime deal!
That's only the base price. With upgrades it'll be way more.
So what, you can swing it.
You gonna listen to the same guy that nearly made you lose your drivers license?
'Nearly' is the operative word there, grandma.
Hey, give me a minute to think, will you two?
Sure, sure, take your time. And when you're done thinking, go get your checkbook.
We'd better talk to Lois, first. Call the mortgage guy, see if we'd even qualify.
Qualify, schmalify. He who hesitates is lost. Hey, that sales chick ain't half bad, eh?
Sshhh… here she comes.
"Hi, would you be interested in see the available floor plans?"
No!
"Sure."
"The lot sizes are just under one acre and the smaller Werkenstiff model is just under twenty-eight hundred square feet."
"That's very nice. And I can put any of the style houses on the lot that I want?"
"That's right."
Yeah, go bigger! Bigger!
"How about this one?"
"Ahh, the Mördo. (I'm told it has a Finnish basement) That's twenty-nine hundred square feet and the base model starts at only twenty-five thousand dollars more."
"I see."
"And for the ultimate in spaciousness, there's the Gluttone, which boasts thirty-five hundred square feet."
"How much is that?"
"The base price is only seventy-five thousand more than the Mördo."
Go for it. Ya only live once.
I wanna go home. This is making me dizzy.
WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo?
"I'll take the Mördo."
Ooops. That kind of just blurted out.
Instantly, six briefcase carrying gentlemen materialized from all directions, one of which handed me something. I'm thinking he's not Welcome Wagon.
"Is this the local phone book?"
"Contract."
"If you must", right shoulder guy relents, "take the contract to our lawyer, he can review it, point out the pitfalls - we'll do this in an orderly fashion. There, it's settled. Can we go home now?"
"Where do I sign?"
That's my boy. What say we celebrate with a drink?
I still have to drive home.
You have to drive, we don't.
Okay, maybe just one.