There was a time, not all that long ago, when I bought old houses and did my best to fix them up. I can’t say that I enjoyed this, but there was some uncontrollable urge to do it anyway. If I liked a location of a house, and I could buy it cheap, there were several times when that’s just what I did. First there was a small house on Clover Street in Williams Bay. I had a contract to buy that decrepit house for $40,000. When it was almost time to close, the seller told me he wanted $46,000. I don’t remember being upset, though I’m sure I was, but I bought the house anyway. I paid $46,000. Some years later, after I spent many dollars and much of my labor on fixing that old house up, I sold the property for around $190k. I don’t remember the six thousand dollars that the seller extorted from me prior to the closing, because it didn’t matter.
Later, I bought a house in Fontana, and then one near Knollwood. The Knollwood house was made of stone, and it may or may not have had a real foundation. All I knew was that the house was stone, and the sand used in the mortar was collected from the beach in town, so there were snails and shells and random bits of living things forever mixed into the walls of that house. On the day of the closing, my lender called. Because of an issue with the condition of the home (it wasn’t livable by any standard), I had to come up with an additional $17,000 towards the down payment. I probably had around $60k in total liquid worth at the time, and though I imagine I was very upset, because I fly off the rational handle better than anyone, I closed on that house and I began doing the work that would need to be done.
I hand dug out a section of the crawl space, just enough so I could install new floor joists. I re-framed the exterior walls of that stone house, and I leveled the entire first floor via shims and strips of wood. A couple of years later, when I sold that home for $270k, or thereabouts, I didn’t recall the $17,000 last minute down payment increase. I didn’t remember it because it didn’t matter. I took the proceeds check and bought a condo to live in while I built a new home in Geneva National.
Two years ago, I saw a For Sale By Owner sign on a dumpy house on North Walworth Road. It was a small house that didn’t look like anyone should be living in it. I called. The owner told me he wasn’t selling it yet, which left me wondering if the For Sale sign wasn’t a bit misplaced. A few weeks later, I closed on the lot. At the closing, the survey that was prepared showed a little barbed-wire fence that looped lazily across the back of the lot. The lot extended about 20′ beyond that fence. The title company didn’t want to insure the property that extended past the fence. I was upset. I argued. I lost. I closed that day, paying $124,000 for a piece of property that may or may not be 10 acres. I closed because I didn’t care about that 20 feet. The lot was 10 acres, more or less, and I knew my value didn’t hinge on that 20′. The value is apparent today, as is my happiness with my property, barbed-wire fence or not.
These are tales that I tell to help prove a point. Perspective is everything in real estate. The minutia can be paralyzing, and any deal without snags and disappointments isn’t much of a deal at all. If we are to have a few grains of salt to make it through a normal day, be sure to bring a satchel of them to any real estate transaction. Can I assume that each of the scenarios above involved people who were purposefully trying to impose on me? Possibly. Can I assume that had I balked at any of those perceived slights that I wouldn’t be where I am today? Most obviously. The key here is to not let the battles of any real estate deal allow you to lose sight of the true goal: Vacation home bliss. It only manifests itself after some trials and a few tribulations, when you’re sitting on a white pier over clear water watching the sun fade over a deep green shoreline. At that time, none of the nonsense that you endured to get to that point matters.