I’ve been circumspect about it, but you know that I’ve been shopping for real estate lately. I’ve been stressing myself with the search–and the cost. Trying to shoehorn my finances into a shape where I’d be comfortable paying a large mortgage for a showplace of a home, paying high condo fees, paying huge closing costs. I’ve made offers on several places: one was a beautiful but small Victorian cottage, with wrap-around porch and built-ins. But the sellers played a game of bait and switch, countering an offer that was $20,000 over their asking price with a request for $75,000 over their asking price.
Next, a stylish new loft, 1,440 square feet that included a separate street-level office with its own entrance. The sales staff never returned calls, and on the day I was set to make an offer at asking price — $599,000, they informed us that it had been sold.
“Miraculously”, another unit was put on sale that very day. It was smaller, but an end unit with more windows. I grudgingly offered $595,000, which was countered with $625,000. That put an end to the loft idea.
I decided to set my sights a bit lower, realizing that I was not going to get the separate office, the new kitchen, and “cool” factor I wanted. And that’s when the cosmos stepped in and told me that all this time, it had been trying to tell me something.
I visited a small little bungalow in a neighborhood that the rest of the city seems to have forgotten about. It almost looks like a neighborhood set from a movie studio — neatly trimmed yards, all the homes different yet none out of place, and a population that is friendly and curious. When I visited, they called each other to pass the news that someone was looking at the house — and they came out to see.
The house is small and charming — it’s only a bit over 800 square feet, but it seems to be laid out in a useful way. There are no strange rooms that are too small, it’s simple and versatile. It has a separate garage and a lush backyard hideaway. The kitchen is big enough to have a cooktop in a center island. The neighborhood defies description. Right behind the airport and to the east of Santa Clara University, it seems like it should be undesirable — but it feels like it has been plucked out of one of the tonier San Jose districts like Rose Garden (only a mile south) and plunked down in an out of the way spot. It is the very definition of “enclave.”
So, I made an offer. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I offered $10,000 less than asking price.
That was yesterday. Between then and noon today, the universe shifted. The seller accepted that offer — no haggling, no raising the price. That’s it.*
I can scarcely believe it: I am now in contract for a house — not a condo or townhouse, but an actual piece of land — for $40,000 less than I was willing to pay for a loft with huge condo fees.
And this is what the cosmos was trying to tell me. My actual monthly outlay on this house will be about $700 less than what the condo would have cost me. I can breathe there. I can sit in my little backyard with Diego sunning himself and breathe.
It’s time to feel at home in California. Finally.
* Well, obviously, that’s NOT it — there are still inspections to do and whatnot before closing. So, cross your fingers.
