Open Houses

So as some of you may or may not know Ron and I have started exploring the idea of buying a house. We are at the very beginning of this process and have started going to open houses to see just what a home we can afford might look like.

Today we managed to hit 5 open houses and it was educational and in some cases quite startling... scary even.

House #1 - It's a ranch on a very busy road and kind of boring from the outside. Inside we discover the floor in the living room slopes dramatically towards the outer wall. The kitchen wallpaper has an "outdoorsman" theme to it. There is an awesome vintage aluminum and formica table in the dining room with matching chairs and would buy it from the homeowner in a second.

Upstairs has been converted from an attic to office and storage space (or a room of forgetting)and we learn that the house was built in 1850 and was the first firehouse in the town. That's pretty cool and we can appreciate the history. There's even photos of the how it looked originally. The basement is sketchy and Ron kept hitting his head on pipes and beams. The bedrooms were small and I have two words: sponge paint.

I have nothing against sponge paint, I even have a room in my current home painted this way. It's poorly done sponge paint I cannot condone. You know, half-assed sponge paint where you can clearly see the outline of the sponge against the lighter color beneath. It's almost as bad as paneling. I hate paneling.

House #2 - A big-ass condo. Outside looks like a cheap New Hampshire motel. I scan the parking lot for hookers. This place has a $400+ condo fee and the grounds so far do not justify this cost.

Inside is BIG. Really big. It looks like it might have been a really swingin' pad in the 1970's. The only thing this place has going for it is how damn big it is.

House # 3 - Let's skip house #3 for now... I want to save it for a grand finale. Here's a teaser: despair.

House #4 - A lovely mansard style house. It is nowhere near a commuter rail station and is a little on the pricey side. It has a shared driveway with what was the garage for the home in the back, but is now a home in it's own right. Apparently there is some bank activity going on with that home so there is an oppurtunity to purchase that as well and reunite the properties. We can't afford to do that so we run the risk of getting nasty neighbors sharing our driveay.

This house is pretty, but it's old. There are only two ways to decorate such a home: formal or funky. We tend to lean towards funky. This home has two kitchens, the second of which is mainly being used as a laundry room. The main kitchen has no cupboards but the pantry has enough to hold everything you could think of. The sink is also in the pantry, which I don't love. It's rather old fashioned actually, but we can appreciate that. The tin ceilings were gorgeous.

The gentleman representing the house of course knew Ron's parents. This was bound to happen sooner or later and this fellow used to go church with them. He said the house has "been owned by christians for a long time so it has a good vibe to it." Um, yeah... nice try, but that isn't exactly a selling point with us.

House #5 - Another condo. Expensive and kind of generic but in a good location. Parking sucks. The realtor was kind enough to give us a booklet full of other condos in the area in the same price range which could be worth investigating.

Now to take a deep breath and talk about house #3.


*breathe*


Where to begin?

My friend Miss H used to write a zine about visiting open houses and I recall a particular issue about a house full of sadness and despair. A house so filthy and disgusting that no one would ever in their right mind purchase it. I believe we have found such a house.

The ad said it was a fixer-upper and I know I at least thought to myself "how bad can it be?" The hornets nest in the corner of the front door should have been a dead giveaway. Or perhaps the rotting carport... maybe the screen door that contained no glass, nor a screen. There were many red flags and today we learned to trust our gut instinct while still in the driveway, safely strapped into our car.

We go up the side stairs under the carport and the place looks deserted. There is a car in the driveway with realtor signs in the back seat so we know someones here. We go around front and ring the bell. No one comes to the door. We wait a few moments and turn to leave when the door opens and a small frumpy woman with white skunk stripe roots ushers us in.

First impression as I walk up the small flight of stairs of this split level ranch is "Hmmm... pretty dark wood floors, too bad they're scratched all to hell." I get to the top of the stairs and look up and around and think to myself "OH.MY.FUCKING.GOD."

The word squalor does not quite do the room justice. There is shit everywhere. The woman ushers us over to a table and asks us to sign in, turning on a light as she does so. It is the only light in the house not coming from the grimy windows. More filth is revealed when the light hits the table.

Most realtors at this point would be disclosing information about the condition of the house or at least apologizing for it's condition but she acts as if it's the most normal house in the world. She begins to tell us that she has to sell the home for personal reasons. Just when I thought this couldn't get any more awkward, now we know that not only is she the realtor, but she's also the homeowner. GREAT. She is the Sy Sperling of houses.

We head into the small kitchen. It's dark in here and the woman says so fast that I can't tell where she's from that the cupboards are new and I smile and try to be polite and say "Hmm... that's a pretty color" I flash Ron a look that says Flee! Flee! The only way it could be any more disgusting is if she had cats. I didn't see or smell any, thank the gods.

We are led down the hall to the bedrooms. The first one has kids bunk beds in it and they are loaded with crap and blankets are draped over the whole mess. Ron later says that the saddest part was that there may actually be kids living there. Her bedroom is pretty tidy in the grand scheme of things and the last bedroom is yet another room of forgetting. It was full of junk and Ron says he saw an autoclave in there next to more realtor signs. I didn't look that closely.

Considering the whole time I was thinking to myself over and over "Don't touch anything" I was not going investigate the bathroom. I'm not particularly cootie crazy, but this place was bad enough to consider becoming a germaphobe.

But wait! There's more!

She takes us downstairs. Ron and I are trying to be swift but polite. This woman obviously has problems and she'll probably get shit on enough in trying to sell this house and she doesn't need to hear it from us.

The lower level has an "office" and another bathroom and a laundry closet. She is talking very fast and non-stop, as if this is her one big chance to sell this place and she's trying to point out the charms of the house as fast as she can, even suggesting turning this office into a master bedroom.

Next stop is the family room. This room is relatively clean compared to the rest of the place and there is a lovely wood burning stove surrounded by tile at the far end. She says she paid $2000 for the stove.

There is an alcove at the end of this room and she says she used it as an "office" and she proceeded to tell us that she was in the middle of redecorating it. You could tell by the crap on the floor that she ripped out some stuff and started the project but hadn't been back to it in months. She says something about being from Ireland where they don't have basements and that she wasn't used to having one, as if it explains the debris on the floor.

As we turn to leave this room and head back upstairs we see the Christmas tree. Yes, you read that right. A fully decorated fake Christmas tree. Now don't get me wrong, the tree was lovely, a little oasis of cheer in this pit of dispair even, but um... it's JULY. It was the white elephant in the room and no one mentioned it.

So we make our way back to the landing and as I go to shake this woman hand and bid her farewell I notice she looks like she's about to cry. Just when I think we are able to make a fast getaway Ron runs back up the stairs to get her business card. I find out once we get back to the car that the only reason he did this was to find out what her name was and avoid any listings with her name on it. I won't post it here because like I said, she has problems, and she could probably use all the breaks she can get, but if you ask nicely I'll tell it to you.

As we are heading out to our car Ron mutters under his breath to me "Do you have any Purell?"