For what I was paying in the Art Museum area, I could practically afford a house to rent. I found a cute place near the Barbary with a claw-foot tub (the selling point) and called Mom while she was vacationing in California to tell her the news. In between hearing about her shopping trips and dining out she said I should not take the apartment and that I should get in touch with a realtor because I'm going to buy a house. She said it would be unwise to not take take advantage of the tax credits and mortgage rates for first time home buyers with my credit.
That same day, I was on the phone with my mortgage broker friend Richie Frangiosa, President of Capital Processing aka "Judge Knot" a ref for my roller derby league, the Philly Roller Girls. I said, "I guess I'm buying a house?" and we made an appointment to go over my non-existent finances that week.
The next day, my girlfriend, Kristin, put me in touch with her amazing realtor Ryan Gallagher. He lives in Fishtown and flips houses there too. From what Kristin said, he was a straight up and totally cool. And he really was. As soon as I emailed him that I was interested in looking he shot me back and email with listings in my price range. I marked off the ones I was interested in and the next day he sent me back my list with comments like "lame. lame. ok. ok. lame. ok..." I liked him already.
Over the next week I talked with my mom about what I could afford. In addition to my savings, she told me that there was stock in my name that I could cash in and she could also give me a kind of "interest-free loan with no due date" from my stepfather and her (otherwise known as help with the down payment). I brought the figures to Richie's house (a sweet sweet loft in an old rehabbed Fishtown factory building), he crunched some numbers, and viola' - it turned out that I could afford a house. Who'da thunk it?
I got together with Ryan and a couple friends to look at some houses. I was a bit nervous because as a historic preservationist, I knew exactly what I didn't want and I knew Fishtown had a lot of that. There aren't many buildings historically designated in the area so there are no real controls on what people do to their properties. Vinyl windows, aluminum siding covering character-defining wood cornices, glass block in basement windows, fake perma-stone and jersey brick covering facades, stuccoed this and stuccoed that are commonplace. It makes me wonder what these people find aesthetically pleasing. Cheap fixes I suppose.
Anyway, as our search was underway we saw some hideous exteriors, gorgeous interiors, and some hideous interiors. The night was winding down and we were nearing the bottom of the list when 829 Mercer Street came up next. I was excited by this one because, from the picture, it was the only facade that wasn't obliterated by modern materials c/o Home Depot.
We pulled into the tiny alley off of Thompson Street known as Mercer Street and I saw it immediately. My house!! A cute little two-story brick house with rotten-to-the-bone wood windows, a beautiful wood cornice, and not a stitch of vinyl.. well until you go out back. Inside it has an exposed brick wall, hardwood floors, and a wood-burning stove! I was sold the second I saw it. They say when you find your house, you just know it. Kind of like your wedding dress, though I don't know what that feels like either. But I knew about this.
I had an offer in the next day. Asking price, 20% down. It was under what I could afford and I wanted to make sure I was at the top of the stack of potential buyers. A few days and a few transactions later, they accepted my bid and I paid the initial down payment. For the next month until closing I was signing, faxing, emailing, bothering Ryan, bothering Richie, going to the bank, calling contractors, calling Mom, calling Dad, calling Kristin, calling Ryan some more, and I kept watching my little brown folder getting bigger and bigger with each new piece of paper.The inspection almost made me throw up, but it was apparently not an abnormal estimate. As the inspector walked through the house from room to room, more and more imperfections were revealed to me. It was kind of like meeting a new love interest that you daydream about being with "forever" and then their best friend tells you about all the stuff wrong with them... you have to think to yourself, 'Can I live with this or that?' The answer was, yes, I'll fix that, I'll deal with that, I'll have to fix that immediately, or I'll fix that in a year or so.
The windows were by far the worst (or so I thought). They are completely rotten. You can actually see through one because it's completely missing it's meeting rail. They gave the house such character. It broke my heart to say that I have to have them all replaced. So I decided to stick to my guns and invest in custom historic wood windows in the front and first floor to match what was existing and (shudder) vinyl in the rear - $8,000.
The windows were only a small part of the work this place needs. A floor joist is rotted, the bathroom is rotted behind the false front they slapped on, the mudroom floor is rotted underneath the vinyl flooring, an air duct is completely disconnected, the dryer was done, the AC condensor is being supported by a few cocked cinderblocks, the PVC pipes in the basement are unsupported, the sink leaks...
All this had to be taken into account when it was time to barter with the seller for a credit. I estimated to repair everything on the inspection report, it would cost at least $30,000. I wasn't even including my own personal desire for wood windows. Guess what they came back with after a few volleys with numbers... $5,000. That will get me... oh wait, NOTHING. But Ryan did an awesome job getting me that much. Apparently, so I've learned, $5,000 for a house like mine is actually pretty good. So I was satisfied... though dreading the future repair costs.
When it came time for closing that $5,000 ended up helping me out more than I thought. They credited it to my down payment so my monthly mortgage payments were reduced by $40!
Closing on my first house felt a lot like a right-of-passage; like Holy Communion in 8th grade, graduating high school, getting my first off-campus apartment in college, getting my own car insurance. It made me actually feel a little older, a little more mature, and a shit-load more responsibility. I never knew signing my full birth name over 20 or 30 times could do that to me, but it did. I left that lender office with a new skin.... and I had no idea what I was in for.
Over the following weeks I began the packing and moving process. I was used to it because I've moved every year since 1999. You'd think I had it down to a science. I took a car load of stuff over every night. Kristin helped me a ton and we even borrowed her friend's truck a couple times to haul out the big stuff. Just her and me. Girls.
The perfect little picture of a clean and empty house soon filled up with boxes, bags, dusty objects with no home, two frightened cats, and there was me - broken out from stress, sweaty in cut off shorts and a wife-beater, with dirt and dust from head to toe and through my exhausted eyes, you could see I was really happy. Just unlocking and locking my door made me giggle. Like I'm a little kid climbing into my own treehouse.
As soon as I got reasonably settled I made a list of "want" and "need". Things that I once thought were on my need list soon made their way to the want list.
Need:
-resolve water drainage issue with neighbor
-vent crawl space
-replace mudroom floor (rotted)
-repair floor joist (rotted)
-cement and seal basement floor
-reconnect air duct
-stabilize pipes in basement
-stabilize AC condensor
-re-insulate AC condensor pipe
-inspect and clean wood stove
-side or stucco rear
-replace the entire bathroom (rotted behind fascia)
Want:
-repave rear yard
-refence rear yard
-demo closets
-rip out carpet, refinish floors
-rip out linoleum, tile kitchen floor
-rip out couters, replace
-install living room ceiling fan
-replace all lighting fixtures
-install rear screen door
-paint walls
-replace all interior doors and moldings
-buy a grill
-install shelves in mudroom
-compost bin
-new dishes
First on the immediate need list was the electric. There was no main disconnect and the fuse box looked like someone vomitted metal spaghetti into it. My friend Monika just so happens to be in electrician school. So I hit her up and for less than half of what I'd probably pay some crotchety Fishtown electrician to rip me off, she reorganized it all, threw in a main disconnect, new breakers, jammed a grounding rod into the basement floor, and fixed all of my ungrounded plugs. I'm sure she did a litany of other things that she tried to explain to me several times, but trying to understand what she was talking about was like trying to understand directions in Spanish; I kind of get it, but not really.
Then Dad showed up, kind of developed a priority list of his own, and went to town. First he bought me a new dryer, which took removing the door frame to the basement to haul it down there. Then Kristin and he put the washer in the basement and hooked it all up. He put a cap on my chimney (watching him try to get up on the roof had me shaking with fear), replaced my broken garbage disposal and sink, and reconnected extremely seperated ductwork.
I think it's so great that my dad has been helping me as much as he has. But he just retired and my vision of retirees is sitting on the back porch, sipping a beer, and reading a
good book. Not banging around your daughter's dirty basement for hours. So I feel a sense of guilt. But I guess that's just what dads do.
Which kiiiiind of gets me to today... For the sake of not writing a book right away,
I'll stop here and just say what I keep telling myself - Rome wasn't built in seven days. This house is a continuous work in progress and I'll try to keep you posted with its modifications as things move along.
