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Abstract

ill make my monthly cost as much as an overpriced house. It needs to be in one of five cities that surround my kids’ school. It can’t be a former crack house.</p><p id="a4f4">I have <i>one</i> frivolous request: it has to house my flatscreen television. I won’t be able to afford a social life, so I need a room that can handle the excessive Netflix binging. The geniuses that were architects in the 1980s created weird nooks for televisions in walls. Except back then, televisions were 30". Even worse, there are elaborate, ugly fireplaces that are useless in a place that never gets snow. They take up the usable wall space that would otherwise go towards art or televisions.</p><p id="121e">Today, I saw Home #1. It was the only one that met the criteria and didn’t already have offers.</p><p id="85ea">I meet Adam early morning today. He’s not your typical real estate agent. He’s ultra chill, very personable, makes his own beer, and more importantly, won’t push me into something that I’ll regret later.</p><p id="6a8d">Home #1 is a little further away than I’d like but I know I have to suck it up. It meets the requirements of being a detached house and it’s located in one of the four cities.</p><p id="f62d">It’s small but cute. The living room has plenty of room for a flatscreen. The kitchen cabinets are brand new. The backyard is tiny but cozy for dinner outside. The laundry is conveniently located inside the house instead of the garage.</p><p id="2627"><b>It’s also infested with cockroaches</b>. I put that under the “can’t be a former crack house” requirement. I can tolerate seeing one gross bug. When I see two more, we agree that it’s worth looking at so he can get a sense of what I’m looking for but not for an offer.</p><p id="7fd7">By the third room and eight cockroaches later, I yell “<i>I’m out!</i>”. I run out with that wiggly feeling of bugs crawling all over me. Adam meets me in the driveway as I hop around, shaking off invisible critters.</p><p id="e152">“That home has been vacant for a while. I’ll have to call the agent and give her a courtesy notice.” Adam tells me. This kind of thing doesn’t phase him; dude has seen some dark stuff in his time as a real estate agent. He assures me that I’m not being overly picky with not wanting to look at the rest of the house.</p><p id="ffe0">“I’m assuming it will take at least thirty offers before someone accepts mine,” I tell him. Adam doesn’t think it will be that bad but he s

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uggests pushing out my search radius. I agree to add a city more south. He mentions another town further north.</p><p id="261d">“I’d rather take the cockroach house than live that far away,” I tell him.</p><p id="661d">This rough market is something I’ve prepared for all year. Redfin is my porn; I know that sellers want you to pluck out your eyeballs and serve it to them on your child’s back. The Delta variant of Covid is cockblocking the market from opening up more homes, along with an extended eviction moratorium in California. There is little chance anything more will pop up on the market this week.</p><p id="271a">And so concludes this week’s episode of Post-Divorce Home Shopping.</p><div id="2c92" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-live-on-edge-because-i-live-with-my-separated-husband-6c94e138e511"> <div> <div> <h2>I Live on Edge Because I Live With My Separated Husband</h2> <div><h3>I’m in survival mode</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*ISXDMnFvbNZB5c_5)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="9efb" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/dear-men-heres-why-your-dating-profile-sucks-b96acbab0f24"> <div> <div> <h2>Dear Men — Here’s Why Your Dating Profile Sucks</h2> <div><h3>I’ll break it down for you.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*vqtzIcU4Ldy9oxLv)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="5126" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/new-person-sex-feels-weird-9681a16036ab"> <div> <div> <h2>New Person Sex Feels Weird</h2> <div><h3>It’s like learning on the job.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*romEMgzS1NbVXC9A)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Divorce Milestone: Finding a Place To Live

This could take a while.

Last week, my soon-to-be ex-husband refinanced me off of our home loan. Essentially, I’m homeless.

This means I can finally move out.

I. Can. Finally. Move. Out.

I have been waiting for this moment for what feels like eons, or at least as long as we’ve had a pandemic. I couldn’t move out until my name was off of my current home loan and it took dozens of steps to get there.

My home loan chick gives me a list of the things she needs to pre-qualify me. For anyone who has never bought a home before, the gist is that getting the loan pre-approved and ready to go means when you make an offer, you’re saying “I’ve got the cash, I’ve got the loan, you don’t need to wait on me, let’s do this!”

In the past, when buying homes or refinancing, it took days for me to complete because I waited on Joseph to hand me his portion. His 401k statement. His last two paychecks (which were always outdated by the time he sent me the rest of the documents and I’d have to restart). Proof that his companies had been bought out and not that he job hopped.

It took me 29 minutes to gather not only the required documents, but additional statements to show I’ve got the cash needed. I’m on my A-game.

The downside is that this is a garbage seller’s market. I live in California, where homes are increasing at a rate of $1 every two minutes. There is no supply.

My requirements are low. I need a detached home because the Homeowner’s Association fees on a condo will make my monthly cost as much as an overpriced house. It needs to be in one of five cities that surround my kids’ school. It can’t be a former crack house.

I have one frivolous request: it has to house my flatscreen television. I won’t be able to afford a social life, so I need a room that can handle the excessive Netflix binging. The geniuses that were architects in the 1980s created weird nooks for televisions in walls. Except back then, televisions were 30". Even worse, there are elaborate, ugly fireplaces that are useless in a place that never gets snow. They take up the usable wall space that would otherwise go towards art or televisions.

Today, I saw Home #1. It was the only one that met the criteria and didn’t already have offers.

I meet Adam early morning today. He’s not your typical real estate agent. He’s ultra chill, very personable, makes his own beer, and more importantly, won’t push me into something that I’ll regret later.

Home #1 is a little further away than I’d like but I know I have to suck it up. It meets the requirements of being a detached house and it’s located in one of the four cities.

It’s small but cute. The living room has plenty of room for a flatscreen. The kitchen cabinets are brand new. The backyard is tiny but cozy for dinner outside. The laundry is conveniently located inside the house instead of the garage.

It’s also infested with cockroaches. I put that under the “can’t be a former crack house” requirement. I can tolerate seeing one gross bug. When I see two more, we agree that it’s worth looking at so he can get a sense of what I’m looking for but not for an offer.

By the third room and eight cockroaches later, I yell “I’m out!”. I run out with that wiggly feeling of bugs crawling all over me. Adam meets me in the driveway as I hop around, shaking off invisible critters.

“That home has been vacant for a while. I’ll have to call the agent and give her a courtesy notice.” Adam tells me. This kind of thing doesn’t phase him; dude has seen some dark stuff in his time as a real estate agent. He assures me that I’m not being overly picky with not wanting to look at the rest of the house.

“I’m assuming it will take at least thirty offers before someone accepts mine,” I tell him. Adam doesn’t think it will be that bad but he suggests pushing out my search radius. I agree to add a city more south. He mentions another town further north.

“I’d rather take the cockroach house than live that far away,” I tell him.

This rough market is something I’ve prepared for all year. Redfin is my porn; I know that sellers want you to pluck out your eyeballs and serve it to them on your child’s back. The Delta variant of Covid is cockblocking the market from opening up more homes, along with an extended eviction moratorium in California. There is little chance anything more will pop up on the market this week.