I'm one of many Americans who took the plunge and bought a house, but no one prepares you for what that really means
When the real estate market is in full bloom, there are matches to be made.
Home prices are on the up and up, putting those on the housing hunt in the mood for real-estate love. According to the latest Standard & Poor's Case-Shiller Index figures released Tuesday, housing prices in the US are at their highest point in seven years.
Like many other Americans, my husband and I were in a buying mood. We were ready for this "grown up" step. We put an offer on a house in late winter, and now we suddenly find ourselves elevated to the nerve-wracking status of first-time homeowners. The object of our joint affection is a ranch.
At the property closing last month our realtor offered a hearty handshake. "Now you have lots of debt," he said. Our attorney tried to soften the blow: "but there's a house key to go with it".
With mortgage rates still in the enviable range, we've been told that now is the time to buy before housing prices rise even higher.
But no one prepared me for the extent to which I would instantly become so house-centric person, pondering things that previously had no place in my life as a longtime apartment renter. All of a sudden, items like caulk, grounded outlets, paint colors and carpeting began to occupy much of my waking hours. At night, I fell asleep thinking about baseboards and blinds.
I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of maintaining and improving this property. My Google search history revealed endless quests for egress windows, electric amperage and dry wall installation. Is this what the American dream feels like?
On the final walkthrough of our 1,400-square-foot house last month, our realtor offered homeowner tips. He said the first thing we should do is change the toilet seats. And then the locks. There was also the suggestion to spray the lawn with "pre-emergent fertilizer" to ward off crabgrass.
Pre-emergent, I thought. How medical sounding. But as a newbie homeowner, who was I to get all semantic on my realtor? I needed to take seriously my new foe: weeds. I tried to summon an image of offensive crabgrass. But after 10 years of apartment dwelling, I was drawing blanks. It was clear I had to step up my homeownership game.
So I outsourced some chores and hired cleaners to scrub and steam-clean our ranch, to remove the crumbs and microscopic debris of its previous owners. What is it about those little bits and particles left behind by a house's previous inhabitants that are enough to make you go "ick"? A friend of mine said she almost vomited when she found crushed Cheerios in a cabinet when she first moved into her house. A colleague said he was aghast to find cat hair in the fridge of his new abode.
Meanwhile, I was busy Googling various remedies to eradicate noxious refrigerator odors. (Thanks, internet, because mixing baking soda and vanilla in shallow bowls works like a charm.)
As a first-time homeowner, I have my doubts about this undertaking. So I spoke to a colleague – a veteran economist – who now lives mortgage free in his house after 22 years of monthly payments. He said one of the biggest advantages to homeownership is actually a mental benefit. I witnessed this last week when I saw my husband take his new broom and sweep dirt and dust from our back patio. He's sweeping outdoors? My husband?
Yet he was doing so with youthful enthusiasm. There were no complaints about chores. No grumbles about who should do what. Just the swoosh of the broom. As the master of the ranch, he appeared happy to do what needed to be done for his very own property.
There would be no place for dirt here. And with that, I should probably raise a glass to our 30-year, fixed-rate mortgage.