I'm reading David Giffels's All The Way Home: Building a Family in a Falling-Down House. (I'm loving it. I can hardly put it down.) There's a bit of synchronicity in my reading this book, about the restoration of a 1913 mansion in Akron, while I'm trying to buy a 1927 mini-mansion in Youngstown.
The home inspection took place yesterday. I haven't spoken to the inspector, but have read all his words, and they made me pause. Am I getting in over my head? Here I am, a 58yo widow with no handyman who sleeps next to me. And the real estate fiasco of this past summer has left me with severely limited funds and an immense desire to get out of debt. Am I crazy to take on this house?
The electrical system needs to be replaced. The basement has mold. The chimney needs tuck pointing. (What the hell is tuck pointing and why has this phrase suddenly come into my life?)
Okay, Mrs. V has lived there for years and years and years, plugging in electrical appliances. The house still stands. How many years could I live there before I'd Absolutely Have To replace the electrical system?
The mold. How much to remediate? When Tyler texted me that the inspection report had been delivered and the man told Jaci that it would cost "a couple thousand dollars," I thought, that's okay. I had been thinking of offering to pay all the closing costs. Now I'll just split the closing costs and pay for the mold remediation.
But when I spoke with Jaci at dinner, she said, "he told me at least a couple of thousand dollars." Uh oh. "At least" means "no less than and maybe/probably a whole damned lot more than."
There were many other items on the list, those items conveniently printed in red ink. Red means Stop. Shit.
At the same time, the house I made an offer on six weeks ago but was snatched out from under me is rumored to be back on the market. The darling neighbor across the street from the house said he thought I could get it for less than $50K. The new owner got it for $37K. Bastahd. Probably has done nothing to it in the interim, nothing to justify a $13K profit in six weeks. Oh well.
I went to sleep with whorls of "what shall I do" in my head. Oh for a significant other to knock this around with, someone who is going to take this great adventure with me. Memories of making an offer on a 1915 rowhouse in D.C. with John, of planning for our short-lived future.
Can I live with the electricity the way it is?
At midnight I was awakened by Tyler clomping down the stairs from his attic office to the mudroom, then turning on the light in my hallway as he replaced a blown fuse. An omen? An omen of months and months of making sure not to use the toaster and the microwave simultaneously. Months of drying my hair in a dark bathroom because I'm afraid of using the bathroom light and the hair dryer at the same time?
Argh. I need a psychic. What do I do now?
3 comments:
If it helps, I haven't been able to use the toaster and the microwave simultaneously for over seven years (tip, plug them into a surge cord so that you don't have to make a trip to the breaker box every time you forget). If you love your house, you'll get used to its quirks.
The mold is obviously another matter altogether. I hope the right answer presents itself without too much worry on your part.
The tuck pointing means that the mortar in the brickwork needs to be repaired/ redone. Hopefully the inspector checked for leaks, depending on where said brickwork is located...?
The mold is a much bigger issue (both health/safety and $$). My understanding is that, basically, all the wall material, insulation, and flooring needs to be torn out and replaced to truly be rid of the mold. Though you could look at it as an opportunity to customize the basement....
Oh, Jenn, how nice to now have an architect among my circle of friends. Sounds like you're studying well! (Thanks for the info.)
I think the mold is minimal. I have a very sensitive nose, and I never smelled it when I was in the house. I'm meeting an electrician there on Monday to see how much this is going to cost.
Thanks again.
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