Okay, for the last few weeks I've been looking for a house, so that I can "get out of the trap of rent and start earning some equity"...or whatever.
So I find a spot I like, it's roomy, the price is right and it's right on time. I get the appraisal back for more than I'm paying, the inspection only spots minor stuff and the neighborhood has about ten or twelve new houses in the area, so values should be holding steady.
I'm laying out the floorplan, how I'll convert this bedroom into the library/bar, this is the guest room and this other my office, how I'm gonna arrange furniture and picking paints. I've figured out the new route to work and my new grocery store. I'm getting estimates on the minor repairs, appliance shopping and checking out lighting and I'm climbing the walls to get out my spot an into this spot that is just has potential out the ying yang. (By the way...a copy of Metropolitan Home is like Old Man porn).
Then the city of Atlanta smacks in the face. Just goes to town on a brother. *whap whap*
The taxes we got at the beginning weren't the real taxes. The taxes don't double, they almost triple in the week of closing. And I balked.
At one point my mortage broker is yelling at me through the phone, like I'm not about to come out of pocket in a major way for her benefit....but that's a whole other story.
I told the finance person that I had no intention of living in this spot and eating tuna fish five nights a week to make ends meet. I know a few folks that have gone that way and I know they're miserable. For some reason they thought I could afford it, and I'm thinking second and maybe third job to make it work...and then what's the point of having the house?
I was supposed to close on the 8th...I'm out looking at more houses now.
This is some bullshit.
Bartender, some of that boot you keep under the counter. In a dirty glass.