This is a story about birds, anxiety, and house-shopping. Bear with me.
A few years ago I showed houses to first-time buyers in their mid-30s. Bright, articulate and careful with their money, they were engaged to be married and were searching for an Eastside home with an office, sunny garden, big garage room for a workshop, and at least three bedrooms since they hoped to have a kid or two someday.
Our first stop was a renovated bungalow on Sadlier. Some flips are so dismaying; the houses look slick in photos but once inside you discover all the ways the rehabbers cut corners: shoddy trim work, sloppy paint, a mishmash of fixtures and flooring purchased cheap at a surplus store.
This reno was done expertly and it met all their must-haves: the garden, oversized garage, office, three bedrooms. BINGO!
I noticed one of my clients bending down to inspect some molding along the baseboard. Then she reached up and ran a finger along the wall, scrutinizing a seam in the drywall. Brow furrowed, she turned to me and shook her head. On to the next house. And the next. And the one after that. They finally decided not to buy. I’m not even sure they’re still together.
See, it was never about the molding or the seams in the drywall. Maybe it was the simple fact of buying a house and all its attendant implications and consequences: The commitment to place. The responsibility of a monthly mortgage payment. A transition to adulthood. The investment in one’s future.
In other words, buying a house involves the big stuff. Fixating on little things like molding or drywall seams can be a handy way of putting off big decisions.
I knew the feeling. When I was considering my first house, I obsessed about the fake white plastic brick on the living room wall, and a kitchen countertop made of tiny tiles I was certain would be a breeding ground for salmonella. Then I noticed that the tree in the backyard was full of birds. Blackbirds were perched on every single branch and twig. The cacophony was deafening. I stood in the yard and stared at the tree and was suddenly overcome with dread bordering on panic. Why is this tree full of blackbirds? What the heck is wrong with this house? Was there some kind of weird electromagnetic field surrounding the house? Was this a bad omen? Am I about to make the worst decision of my life?
It wasn’t the house. It was me. I was 25 years old, I was about to make the biggest financial decision of my life, I was moving away from family and friends, and this little brick Cape Cod represented an enormous investment in my future. This was a huge deal. I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
My advice to new home buyers would be this: Let yourself feel whatever it is you’re feeling about this big decision, this next big chapter in your life. But don’t let those feelings derail your progress toward finding a great new house. When you’re ready to shop for a house, try approaching the process with both head and heart.
For your head, make a list of everything you need in a house, and if you find something that meets 80 percent of that list, it’s a top contender. Save your worry for real problems: mold, standing water in the basement, a crumbling foundation, active termites, a rotten roof, or, say, the crack house next door. Also remember that once you have an accepted offer, it’s your home inspector’s job to find problems with the house.
As for your heart, look for a house that gives you, for lack of a more precise explanation, “the feeling.” It’s hard to put into words, but I promise, you’ll know it when you feel it.
Above all, don’t worry about the blackbirds.