Earlier this year, I shared some information on how far a certain budget could take you in the PNW. It turns out that the variation was wide-ranging based on location, but it was typically situated next to either a demolished lot with a cardboard box that you probably don't own, a boat with a "flat roof" as its main square footage, or an adorable bungalow…in Tacoma. I thought I might throw in some updates and fun facts I've learned while actively house hunting here. It's been eye-opening, that's for sure.
With that, I invite you to live vicariously through one of my misadventures and enjoy the show.
Let’s start with the fact that the budget my partner and I have is that of an average two-person household, making average money. Neither of us makes six figures, and we are able to eat out, venture to the beach, and buy decent dog food (for the dogs, not the people). This budget allows us to look at certain kinds of homes, the homelier homes, that require just a bit of tender love and care, and may smell of grandma's smoking habit from 15 years ago. Good bones, but the only real reason you’re buying it is because it’s what is in your budget, to stop renting, and to have a yard for your two dogs, who eat decent dog food, to have space to run around. Take this into consideration when reading on.
* Assuming that the photographs are what the house will look like on the inside when you see it in person.
* Basing a lot of my opinion of a house not just on the photographs that have obviously been professionally taken at the proper time of day, but also the lying SOB that created the description of the property. Some people deserve to be slapped in the face.
* Believing that real estate agents are supposed to communicate with each other, but that doesn't have to be the case. Some real estate agents are just assholes who are like, "No comment," when an offer is put through.
* Saying, "It's not that bad" to an odor emitting from the entire house, but coming strongly from upstairs in the primary bedroom. (It's bad. Don't talk yourself into thinking it's not. Remember, there are other fish in the sea and other people selling stupid houses.)
*Not remembering that there are indeed other fish in the sea, and that the first house you see that doesn't smell peculiar is not the only one you’ll ever afford that’s half decent.
Storytime…and Lessons Learned
A quiet drive up through what seemed to be an endless pasture of grass, flowers, and marsh, seemingly misplaced in the city of Portland, would take us up to an even quieter dead-end street with a few houses on the block. Each home seemed to be occupied by tenants who were actively caring for their respective lawns and gardens. An Asian pear tree was out front of the home we would be looking at today. "Wonderful," I say to myself. Asian pears are my favorite.
I had high hopes for this home. The pictures showcased a beautiful, old-fashioned bungalow with plenty of light seeping through the windows. An unfinished basement that brimmed with possibilities, and a welcoming porch, ready for you to relax on…or so the description had read. Walking up to the house was a different story.
We noticed the lawn had not been upkept for some time and was growing brambles around the porch. "No worries," I said to myself, "It's grass. I can deal with that crap." Not only this, but there appeared to be yellow caution tape surrounding my future Porch of Relaxation. "Oh, I wonder what this could be? It's probably nothing. Maybe someone was having a party and just did it for…fun?" The brain will say anything to you to make your dream a reality.
Unfortunately, the porch also had savage bite marks from what appeared to be a dog biting at it, and the inside had an overpowering stench of mold and sweetness. I dared not go into the unwelcoming basement, even though it may have brimmedwith “untapped potential." My partner was brave enough to go through both the basement and upstairs, which is where the sweet stench of death was coming from. Someone had obviously just died here in the last couple of weeks.
He said the basement was nice, though. And that no smell of mold existed in that area. I suppose if I could slap the person responsible for the pictures and description, and if I could get over the fact that this home had someone dead in it for an extended period of time, and if I only wanted to live in the basement of this horror house for a bit of time, while it aired out…I would have had a nice piece of property. Out here in this hidden, country area of a sprawling city, where time apparently did stand still, and you were left alone. Until your neighbors smelled your dead, decaying body.
Lessons Learned From This Experience
Lessons varied. It's hard to say if I really learned anything other than relearning the already known fact that people lie, and salespeople especially so. I also learned that it is important to have people you're in touch with, so that you aren't left in a mess like this, and that one person's definition of an "Adorable, relaxing bungalow" is another person's Hell House. I just hope that whoever does become the lucky owner of this adorable bungalowgets a priest in there, as well as some other witches to cleanse the crap out of that house, because it gave everyone, including my realtor, the heebies and the jeebies. I will be keeping track of this house, though…because I do enjoy Asian pears and would like to know if the lucky future owner would be willing to allow me the opportunity to come and eat their fruit. So long as it doesn't grow decaying, rotten fruit like a Hell House would.
Hannah One Cup can be found around various parts of Portland, where questionable people tend to live, because those are her people, and that's where she can afford to live. She's also house hunting, and in each house, she's making notes of whether to return or not, for some reason or other. If said house has a fruit tree, specifically of the pear variety, she will probably be seen on that property multiple times during this year. No, she isn't interested in buying the house; she just wants to eat your fruit.
