rise and fall

Sunday was an unusual day, and worthy of note for me.

I spent the afternoon driving around and viewing properties in Oakland with a realtor. Given the dual circumstances of rapidly dropping home prices and actually having some money for a down payment, I've decided that I'd be a fool to not start looking.

The first place we went to was on a very cute street, and has some potential, although I ripped my pants jumping the fence since the folks handling the property weren't answering their phone to give us the front gate key-code. We had the code to get in the front door though. Quite a bit of potential, but oddly enough the hook-ups for the washer and dryer were on the outside of the house, leading into the non-existent backyard. I don't mind the lack of yard, but I'm not particularly interested in having my washer and dryer out in the rain.

Some homes we couldn't get into without an appointment, which we didn't have, and one or two I vetoed as soon as we pulled up to them. One had clear dry rot in the eaves, which suggested that the entire roof might be in need of replacement. One new home in a nice new development had a particularly vile carpet that looked like ghouls had been using the place as a larder. (Not soaked in blood, just disgustingly filthy.)

Then we came to a property that I had shown up in my inbox a couple of days ago, and I was curious to see. A Victorian home, built in 1891, not far from the West Oakland BART station. 1,600 sq ft, two stories, six rooms. At $232,000 I was sure it had to be a disaster area, but I still wanted to see it, just because of it's age.

Lush foliage peeked over the fence that surrounded the property, and as we opened the gate I was struck at how the front yard space was crammed with a blue spruce, a lemon tree, large ferns and many other plants I couldn't name properly. While my realtor got the front door open, I walked along the side of the building, moving through the plants and checking out the back "yard", which was a study in contrasts, acting as a fully paved two or three car parking area. I moved back to the front and climbed the stairs, walking inside and finding a marbled floor, curving stairs in classic red patterned carpet to the right, and a front room to the left that had clearly been used as a recording studio, with dozens of outlets along the walls, and new cabling everywhere. The kitchen was enormous, with a large fridge and a very nice gas stove that couldn't have been more than a couple of years old. Lovely dining area, and up the stairs were four bedrooms. Everything was in good condition. Some of the carpet would need to be replaced, of course, and while I loved the vibrant red of the stairwell and entryway, and the blue of the kitchen, some of the walls would need to be repainted. Overall, however, it was a dream. A vision.

As we left, the neighbor inquired how long it had been on the market, and what it was going for. His friends had lost the home, and they had been using it as a base of operations for their music business. The large portable storage in his lot was all the equipment, and they had been hoping to get the house back, but didn't realize it had been on the market for a week. I felt bad for them, but still desperately wanted the house.

I had fallen a bit in love with it. It was more than I could ever have dreamed of.

We viewed a couple of other properties, including one that would need to be completely refloored, but that I could otherwise have for a song. But compared to the ancient victorian, nothing could catch my eye.

I got home and looked up the property online. I wanted to double check transportation routes and crime stats. I wanted to be sure that there wasn't something I was missing before I moved to make a bid on the house.

It wasn't there. Many properties weren't there. My saved search had been five pages of results, and now it was two. I went to my "Saved Properties" and saw my precious, and next to status it said "Pending." In the four or five days since the listing had appeared in my inbox, someone had made a bid on the property and it had been accepted by the bank. I had been looking at a home that wasn't even available.