HOME OWNERSHIP BLISS

     I did it!  On April 9^th 2014 I bought the condo.  It was touch and go for a while: first, should-I-shouldn’t-I?, then can-I-dare-I?, then, dealing with a reverse-mortgage-short-sale that I didn’t understand, and 5,000 pages of Home-Owners’-Association-Rules-And-Regulations that were even more incomprehensible.  But, in the end, the bank accepted my offer, I signed everything, and I’m happy to report I’m now a Vallejo homeowner, and like it or not, I’m here and HELLO! 

     I chose the compact little condo with a patio over the spacious hillside dream house with the big yard because of its location and the price was right, and, after all, at my stage of the game, it’s better for me.  Let’s face it, my knees don’t bend like they used to, and, I still want to travel, pack my bags, lock my door and go to Italy for a couple of months without worrying about an unguarded home with possible dry rot that needs constant care.

     My new home is not perfect, neither architecturally interesting nor particularly gracious.  The kitchen is small, there’s an inside flight of stairs I could frankly live without, and I hear a lot of traffic noise from the street in front.  As one astute friend observed, “the place looks like a cheap hotel,” but I can see its potential, and it’s got a view of the river, a fireplace, and 2 ½ bathrooms.  I’ll fix it up.  With a bit of creativity and a bundle of cash it could turn out OK.

     I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting into when I made the offer, but it wasn’t until I sat down with a good friend, an experienced builder/designer/ decorator, and we started making lists of what I need in order to renovate the place the way I want, that I began to understand the true and deep, almost spiritual significance of home ownership.  It came to me in a blinding flash: home ownership is an exercise for masochists with money to burn.  It’s a mandate to Buy, Buy, Buy, Buy, Buy, Buy. 

     Home ownership, as I see it, is the backbone of this country; it’s the realization of the American Dream (for the disappearing middle class); it’s what keeps the economy going and growing (or brings it down); it’s why this country is the greatest place in the world to do business, (and ((currently)) be a general contractor).  Home ownership obliges you to become a perpetual consumer with unending and often unforeseen needs and desires. It’s a black hole.  For the first time in my life I’m thinking about refrigerator doors, washer capacity, and the merits of self-cleaning ovens.   I’m running around looking in places I’ve never before entered: big box stores, flooring and tile stores, closet design and plumbing supply emporiums, and the shining be-all-end-all mecca of home owners across the land: Home Depot. 

     More, more, more….  I need all the appliances (which is best?)   I’m ripping up carpeting and tiles and putting down laminate. (I hope that’s a good decision.)  I’m tearing down partitions, scraping popcorn off ceilings, expanding space, painting everything – and these are just the first items on my list.  I need things and I need help.   Not only will I do my part to stimulate the economy I will become a job creator.

     I keep telling myself I’m having fun.  I am, actually, sort of, in a stressful kind of way.  This is what I’ve saved for all my life.  I’m a home owner now, after all, and it’s a good thing.  My snarky friend hates my house; he says I’m throwing pearls to swine, but I believe I've made a good investment.  I’m transforming a small, dinky place into a wonderful light-filled  home on the river where I can be near my darling grandchildren, and finish out my old age in style.  The way I see it, it’s now or never.