On Attempting to Buy a House:
If I had to list my top three personality flaws (as in, the primary things I'd say I need to "work on," were I the kind of person to use therapy lingo), I'd say they were: impatience, control-freak-ism, and being overly critical. The Hermione Granger suite of flaws, if you will. I've had these tendencies since I was a kid; these days, they don't tend to cause me a lot of trouble. Life has organically sanded off their sharpest edges.
That said, the home-buying process has caused all three of these proclivities to flare up like gout. There's so much waiting (for sellers, for underwriters, for appraisers). It invoked my inner Veruca Salt like nothing has in well over a decade. And there are so many moving parts begging for my micro-management! So many fallible players and set-pieces deliciously vulnerable to my criticism! It's a problem.
It's a problem, in part, because there's a lot of mixed messaging about the "right" way to go about buying a house.
On one hand, you're advised to trust the system. There are entire industries dedicated to helping newbies like us navigate the process. Real estate agencies, law offices, and mortgage brokers expect to work with anxious, bewildered people who have no idea what they're doing, and the industries organize themselves to be mostly idiot-proof. They've done this a million times. Assuming you've hired a bang-up team of professionals, you can trust them to carry you through: all you have to do is tell them what you want, respond to their emails, and sign on the dotted line.
On the other hand, you're also cautioned that trusting anyone when buying a house is wildly irresponsible. You hear horror stories of predatory lenders, bribed inspectors, unscrupulous appraisers and agents, people willing to say or do anything to get the deal closed. Never take recommendations at face value. Read every clause. Get second and third opinions. Be proactive; don't simply assume the process will work. Any lapses along the way will immediately result in you purchasing a termite-ridden murder house with a subprime mortgage and no fewer than four (4) poltergeists.
So, it depends on perspective. Maybe my being especially impatient/controlling/critical is a little crazy, making me a pest to the teams of good people who are just trying to do their jobs and help me own a home. Or maybe it makes me crazy like a fox. Maybe all of my fevered research and question-asking and follow-up calls are actually essential to us avoiding a real estate disaster.
More realistically, it's both, and neither.
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I've learned that people are always complaining about property taxes because the method for calculating them is extremely complicated and also extremely variable. They can go up or down a lot year over year for many reasons that are difficult to pin down and over which you have very little control. I get it now! I humbly accept your congratulations.
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Choosing a house to buy is a major decision, and I think when a decision is major, you want to be reassured that you're not only making a good choice, but the best choice, the correct choice. If you're putting tens of thousands of dollars and a chunk of your financial future on the line, you're not necessarily going to be satisfied with the idea that your decision was just, like, fine. It's maddening to think that there might have been a better decision out there, unmade.
I think this is why, after people buy houses, they tend to start talking about the whole ordeal in the grandiose language of destiny. When an offer on a house falls through, it "wasn't meant to be." Merely adequate houses get transformed into dream homes through the power of retrospect: imperfections get redefined as charming idiosyncrasies that make a house "perfect for us."
Frankly, there's a lot of truth to this: I think houses become homes in the same way couples become soulmates. GR and I have playfully agreed that we weren't soulmates when we started dating, but we certainly are now: ten years of partnership have transformed our initial compatibility into a truly unique bond. With houses and people, there's no single "right" choice, but choices become right in the rear-view mirror, once time and effort have made them right.
(I believe this particular type of angst also tends to be more common among first-time home buyers, who [like me] tend to see house purchases as permanent decisions [thus the marriage metaphor], while people who've been around the block a few times view house-buying as more akin to dating: serious-ish but readily undo-able.)
Thinking about this has helped me put some of my anxieties and doubts to rest as we move towards closing. The house we buy doesn't have to be perfect. As long as we like it and it doesn't hobble us financially, we can chalk it up as a win. Our minds will make it perfect later.
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I'm encouraged by the fact that the overall arc of this process is trending upward. The farther along we've gotten, the more enjoyable things have become.
I found house-hunting to be a bit of a slog. But once we set our sights on a house, my creative imagination began to run wild. I immediately had license to indulge all my dormant techie/HGTV impulses. I've already planned a wall color scheme and potential floor plans, researched and plotted DIY projects, lined up potential carpeting companies, and outlined a budget for furniture purchases. I went down a number of Google rabbit holes in an effort to learn all about the particular fixtures and features in the house. (Ask me about Bulldog Pushmatic circuit breakers!) I didn't realize how much I'd missed being a hobbyist handyman.
House-buying veterans tend to warn you about the unpleasant surprises associated with homeownership: appliances that break down, unexpected expenses, Mrs. Kravitz-y neighbors. While these sorts of things are undoubtedly in our future, right now we're also dwelling in the excitement of exploration, the sheer joy of learning and doing new things. When we look back on this moment, I hope to remember it as fun.
