A Pilgrim’s Digression

Yesterday, I spent the morning searching for financial documents needed for financing a mortgage—old W2s, bank statements, 401k statements, etc. I looked in our various filing cabinets, colloquially known as “the junk drawer,” and “the kitchen table,” and “the shoebox in the top of the closet.” Previous to yesterday, I thought my filing system was infallible: I had a visual image of where I last remembered all these papers lying around. As it turned out, my visual image was a couple years old, in some cases, and the other members of the household had moved things around in the interregnum, and my filing system was therefore hopelessly broken.

Finally, having gathered all the necessary documentation to deliver to the mortgage broker, I went to the realtor’s office to sign the paperwork necessary to make an offer on the house.

By five yesterday evening, our offer had been rejected. It was completely disheartening.

When we made the offer on the other house, I felt like we started much too low, therefore insulting the seller, who did not even give a counter-offer. In this case, our agent advised us to go ahead and offer our best price first thing. So we did that. The house was selling for $127,500.00. We offered $129,000.00, with the seller paying $3500.00 in closing costs, for an actual bid of $125,500.00. That was a good bid, I thought.

When the seller rejected our bid, he made a counter-offer in which we would pay $129,000.00, and he would pay $2500.00 in closing costs. We turned him down; we had already given our best price. The difference was only $500.00, but we felt like he was simply trying to squeeze us for an extra five hundred bucks.

So after we rejected his counter-offer, he makes another counter-offer: he will pay the $3500 in closing costs, but we have to pay $129,500.00 for the house. That one left me scratching my head. I’m no good at math, but it seems to me there is no substantial difference between that offer and the previous one. So we rejected that counter-offer as well, and this time there was no call back from his realtor.

Our agent said there is still a chance the seller may change his mind and accept our original offer, but I am not holding my breath.

Lynn now feels like she does not want to look for a house any longer. I tend to feel the same way. Buying and owning a home now seems like so much more trouble than it’s worth, in the end. If it weren’t for the fact that I am chafing a bit at being under the thumb of our current landlord, I’d give it up right now.

As it is, we will probably keep looking, but we are not going to look at any more houses for awhile. We have the luxury of time; these sellers do not. If they want to quibble about five hundred dollars, screw ‘em. Let them keep their house and sell it to some other sap. Something better will come along for us.

Lynn and I have also been thinking that maybe these rejections are a sign that we should stop looking for a home in our region of Virginia, and begin looking at homes closer to Washington, so I can cut out the long distance commute. I admit that would be nice, but I am skeptical that it could ever come to pass.

The costs of homes in Northern Virginia and Maryland are at least twice what they are in the Shenandoah Valley. I might qualify for a mortgage of two hundred fifty to three hundred thousand dollars, but can I afford those kind of payments every month? And what kind of house would we get for that kind of money? Judging from my co-workers’ experiences with home-buying, $250,000.00 buys you a one, maybe a two bedroom condo, in this area. Family homes are usually $350,000.00 and up.

Right now, it gives me a headache to think about it. I don’t know what is the best thing to do. Do we keep looking for a house in our relatively inexpensive area of Virginia? Do we start planning for a big move closer to Washington? Do we simply keep renting, and keep on keeping on, the way we’ve been doing for the past four years?

I am not good at making these types of decisions. I don’t trust my judgement. In a way, I see these moments of decision as potential traps: taking the wrong step could lead to real problems, financial and emotional, down the road. I’ve stepped in traps like that one too many times in my life. Sometimes, I wonder if not moving at all is an acceptable response.