Now We Wait

So now we wait.

Today is the day my realtor submits the contract back to the Beanie Hat seller requesting a $20,000 reduction to the agreed purchase price.  This, of course, after we learned of the somewhat horrifying and overwhelming repairs that require completion if I were to acquire Beanie Hat.  I mean, just because it’s wearing a cute hat doesn’t make up for the fact that the garage may very well flood during a monsoon.  My Harley can’t have that.

Some friends suggested I write a letter to the seller.  “I see it on TV all the time and it works!”, they say.   Meh.  I dunno.  I mean, asking the seller to come down $20G when she wouldn’t come down another $5,000 during negotiations seems like a stretch.  Even with a letter.  

But, I still wrote it.  I mean, I do like to write so no harm, no foul, right?

Dear Ms. Ihinger, 

This is Lisa Ruggiero, the gal who is in love with your house. I looked at the house early on, though it was a wee bit out of my price range. But, no matter what other houses I saw, I always had yours on my mind and in my heart. I think I looked at it 3 or 4 times before making an offer that I was sure would be dismissed. I was elated when we agreed on a price. It still felt high to me but I knew the location gave the house great value. And, I could already picture myself living in it and calling it home. 

I was devastated when the inspections report didn’t come back so well. I held it together in front of the inspector and my realtor but had a good cry on the way back to my house. You see, I used to live in a house that was built in 1949 (it was off Glendale Ave and 14th St) and while something was always needing fixing or repairing, that house was a charmer, just like yours. I had to move from my beloved home after my boyfriend took his own life in my bedroom and I‘m now living in North Phx in a house that has never felt like home. That’s why I’m house hunting. I’m trying to make my way back home. And your house feels like home. 

But, when I got the report back of so many things that needed correction, I felt overwhelmed. There is so much to be repaired in addition to some updating that I’d like to do inside the house. If you can’t come down the amount I’m requesting, I understand. I just felt led to write this letter to let you know that it’ll be a heartbreak to walk away. I’ve affectionately called the house “Beanie Hat” because the Mansard roof makes the house look as if it’s wearing a hat. I even made it a point to go out there one day, wearing a beanie hat, just to take some pictures in front of it. But, whatever happens, I just want to thank you for allowing me to look at your home so many times and for the hope that I felt during this process. I promise that if Beanie Hat becomes my home it’ll forever be in good hands. And, if that’s not meant to be, then my wish is for the future resident to experience much love, happiness and peace in your home. 

Sincerely, 

Lisa 

So in the meantime….

All we can do is wait.

Some See Insanity

I get it.   From the outside looking in, the move to my north phoenix house looks like a wrong turn, a mistake or a rushed decision (I’ve heard it all…many times over).     

But from where I sit, none of those are true.

I lived in a 68 year old house for almost 2 decades and often wondered what it’d be like to be the first one to use the shower, walk barefoot on the floor and use the stove.  This past year I got to experience all of it.  Except the stove part.   

When I purchased this house, I never had any intention of moving. My realtor warned me at the Design Center about my abundant collection of upgrades. I exuberantly responded, “This is my forever home…I’m getting all the things!”

But, it wasn’t my forever home.  It actually hasn’t felt like home since the day I moved in.  When I explain that, people say “your house is beautiful” as if I'm not seeing it.  I see it.  It is a beautiful house.  It’s just not right.

I thought I could love North Phx but it turns out, I don’t.  I thought living in a subdivision where the houses are close together would be okay.  It’s not.  I thought I’d get used to living away from the vibe and energy of Central Phoenix.  I haven’t.  I thought I’d frequently use the community center amenities.  I don’t.    

Well, looks like you should have just bought a used house then…

Pfft.

After what happened in the bedroom of my old house, I was horrified of the unknown of every preowned house in the valley.  I was in survival mode and needed absolute assurance that my new environment would be sterile.  Yes, the odds of something awful having happened in the very house I might have chosen are slim to none.

That’s not the point.  

I had zero breathing room to leave that to chance.  I needed a 100% guarantee that I was entering a clean slate.  Just take my word on that part.

I don’t view this purchase as anything but another step along the journey.  It was a project to keep me busy while I worked through anger, depression and the feeling of being so unsettled that I felt like I was on a guest pass in my own house; like a visitor in my own life.  

All that junk has been worked through.  Last year hasn't been easy. The last blog of 2017 was the “I Stand Accused” entry written just days before I closed on my new house.  I haven’t published any entries since because none were suitable for viewing.  I try writing from a place that inspires hope and perseverance and having spent the last year feeling forced to have moved into a house I never planned on buying didn’t conjure up positivity.

But one constant has remained.  From day one I have pushed forward, putting one foot in front of the other.  Some people see too many decisions.  I see getting closer to what brings me joy.  Some feel this next move is financially irresponsible.  I feel blessed to have managed my finances so successfully that I can easily make this move.

Some call it insanity.  I call it progress. 

The Beanie Hat House is the final stop.   

And, most importantly, that move gets to be my choice.  

I get to decide for all the reasons I’ve stated (and some that I'm choosing not to publish) that I’m done here.   And, that freedom of choice feels amazing.

Not one box is packed yet but already I feel like I’m going home.