day 11207: fourscore and what feels like seven years ago
A hundred and six days ago, I woke up not knowing that by the end of the day, I would sign my life away as an impending homeowner. Let me rephrase that... three and half months ago, I had no idea that I would impulsively put an offer on a condo that I found off Craigslist.
"Craigslist?" you ask. "You've never once mentioned anything about Craigslist."
You're right, of course. I haven't. I've never once talked about how my life revolves around Craigslist, how I've done almost everything through Craigslist; everything from renting out other people's properties and buying my bike, everything falling just short of finding a date on Craigslist. (Not that there's anything wrong with that... ahem... It's just not my style.)
I've digressed. Back to my story.
The condo was listed as a 2 bedroom, waterfront unit, facing north onto the downtown core (forgive me if this is not verbatim). A corner unit with a bright airy living space, one would simply fall in love with it upon entering (ok, I'm exaggerating).
The price was good. The view not too bad - if I look just the right way out the bedroom windows, I can catch a glimpse of the lake. Waterview. Awesome.
The only catch... no agents. This was going to be a private deal. No problem, or so I thought.
Only, it was a case of the blind leading the blind.
Neither the seller, nor the purchaser had a clue of what they were doing. We drafted up an offer that night, drafted up another the next morning, and drafted up another (and maybe one more after that) a couple days later. And when everything was all said and done, there still was no closing date to be had. Everything was pending on the completion of the building, and the builder registering with the city, upon which my deal would close.
And so I waited. And waited. And waited some more, all the while delving deep into my finances to see how I could afford my little impulse, fielding well-meant inquiries of when my condo was closing and a lot of ribbing about how my situation was a textbook case on why one should do all real estate transactions through a bona fide real estate agent and how I should have consulted a professional. I shrugged it off, internalized my stress (have I mentioned that I'm commitment phobic) and waited some more.
Finally, one day in July I got a call from the owner. A notice was posted in the hallway, she informed me. The condo was closing soon. Oh, but by the way, she tenanted out the condo to a couple of students and it was possible that they'd still be there when I assumed possession of my condo.
And then the stress piled on with renewed vengence. No way, no how would I assume responsibility for tenants. Students? What the hell? There were many mutterings of potential lawsuits and more back and forth between us and them over the closing dates and tenant evictions. And then they stopped returning my calls. Let me tell you, I was not a happy camper.
Today is another story completely. I'm crazy happy, but completely terrified. My BRAND NEW CONDO is vacant, and I have the keys and full possession of everything I'm supposed to be possessing. I've signed away my life, written the biggest cheque I've ever written and adopted a mortgage that will possibly force me into a lifetime of pb&j sandwiches.
But, who cares? I've got property, man. And that's just the beginning to MY empire.
It's great to be me.