Abode Hunt!
Naturally, the first condo I saw a listing for was perfect, unsurpassable, ideal for my needs, and already sold.
Now all other listings that pop up seem less-than. It's a weird state of mind. I know I'm getting in my own way, and that I projected perfection onto that first one because it would have meant accomplishing a major project with minimal effort.
The project, it turns out, is to eliminate my mortgage. The only reason this is conceivable is that my crappy little house has been transported, through the magic of gentrification and urban growth, from an iffy neighborhood with gunfire to a hipster neighborhood with bike boulevards, and is worth a surprising amount of money. Meanwhile, condo prices have been pretty depressed.
Suddenly I seem to be in the enviable position of being able to sell my house, pay off my existing mortgage, and buy an apartment with the leftover cash. If I can do that, I can live off my retirement income and still pay for health insurance. Who would have thought, when I moved into the hovel on Failing Street (yes, really), that it would turn out to be an accidentally brilliant play?
So now the trick, according to my sister the realtor, is to be ready to jump the minute the next perfect condo comes on the market. Moving! Gah! Business. Money. Finance. Change. It's all a bit terrifying.
Gotta go call my sister's mortgage broker. Eep.
Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are
comments.
Now all other listings that pop up seem less-than. It's a weird state of mind. I know I'm getting in my own way, and that I projected perfection onto that first one because it would have meant accomplishing a major project with minimal effort.
The project, it turns out, is to eliminate my mortgage. The only reason this is conceivable is that my crappy little house has been transported, through the magic of gentrification and urban growth, from an iffy neighborhood with gunfire to a hipster neighborhood with bike boulevards, and is worth a surprising amount of money. Meanwhile, condo prices have been pretty depressed.
Suddenly I seem to be in the enviable position of being able to sell my house, pay off my existing mortgage, and buy an apartment with the leftover cash. If I can do that, I can live off my retirement income and still pay for health insurance. Who would have thought, when I moved into the hovel on Failing Street (yes, really), that it would turn out to be an accidentally brilliant play?
So now the trick, according to my sister the realtor, is to be ready to jump the minute the next perfect condo comes on the market. Moving! Gah! Business. Money. Finance. Change. It's all a bit terrifying.
Gotta go call my sister's mortgage broker. Eep.
Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are
comments.