Archive for the 'Real estate' Category

One benefit of the crashing economy

Published at February 1, 2009 in Real estate and New York Fugging City. 2 Comments

Renter’s market!

After I read that article, I poked around Craigslist for apartments in Manhattan.  Damn.  Lots of them that are very close to what I’m paying now, with no fee, and some close enough to walk to work.  One of the things that I *don’t* like about where I live now is that, while I’m geographically closer to work than I was over in Kensington, the commute time is about the same because I have such a long walk/bus ride to the subway.  So I spend an hour and a half to two hours daily commuting.

If I could get a place in Manhattan, I could cut that down to half an hour or less.  I’d love to have an extra hour in my day to walk the dog, go to the gym, hang out with friends, do something crafty, or just relax.  Or sleep later.  And if I lived much closer to work, I might even be able to use a dogwalker only on the days when I have class, thereby saving some cash.

Not only are rents coming down, but a lot of landlords are paying the exorbitant broker fees (I saw lots of listings from brokers stating that there was no fee — which can run $12,000 or more — or that the fee was covered by the landlord) and they’re being a little more forgiving about credit.  Which is less of an issue for me than it was last summer, since I’ve paid off most of my debts, certainly all the ones which I was behind on.  But I’d been certain that I’d have to wait at least a year before making any kind of move in order to build up a good reputation again.  Not anymore!

Other than the expense and hassle of moving, I don’t really see a downside to doing this.  I don’t have a lease to break here; even if I sign a lease somewhere else and rents continue to fall, I can renegotiate or leave at the end of it; if I get a rent-stabilized place, that affords me some protection from increases; I’d get closer to work, which means I recapture time in my day; there are even 1 BRs in my price range, so I could put a door between me and the cats; I could afford Manhattan.

A tale of moving woe

Published at July 12, 2008 in Real estate and Vanity. 2 Comments

So, I moved out, which I’ve mentioned.  Stairs which wrecked my knee, bloody cat barf, the works.   But now there are two rather large complicating factors here.

1)  I can’t find my passport and other important papers that were in a plastic document protector near a whole lot of other papers that I do, in fact, have with me.  I discovered this when I tried to book a trip to Iceland for my birthday and came to a page where you have to input your passport number and other info for the TSA’s security theater.  So I opened the box where I thought it would be and … nothing.  Dug through another bin where I was sure it had to be and …. nothing.  Opened every bag, bin and box I have here and … nothing.

There’s a chance it’s in the storage unit, but I honestly do not remember packing it anywhere.  I’ve called the old building.  Nope.  I called the friends whose car I borrowed to move.  Zip.  I called the buyer, and nothing.  I *can* replace everything, at some expense and hassle, but for my peace of mind, I’d really like the originals.  I have to think they’re in the storage unit, because there are some other important papers I *do* remember packing away that are in there.

2) Oh, speaking of the buyer: My contract allowed me to stay up to either 7 or 10 business days after the closing, at a per diem rate of $131.  I closed on 6/4 at 2 pm and paid the full per diem for that day, not a prorated amount.  I had anticipated being able to turn the keys over to the buyer on 6/8, but the move-out took much longer than I had expected.  She came over and did the walk-through anyhow, and left some stuff there.  She had to take a car service because the trains weren’t running.  I gave her the option of going out and coming back to see if I had finished, but she refused.  I offered to drive the keys over to her, which she was fine about, but when I did finish, she said it was too late and she was going to bed.  I was fried at this point, hot and exhausted, and wasn’t going to meet her there at 9 am.  But my broker lives in the building and had a set of extra keys, and she was going to be showing another apartment at 9 am; I would leave my set of keys inside the apartment.  The buyer agreed to meet the broker there at 9.  Didn’t show up until 1030 am.

Now, the per diem had been paid through 6/8.  My attorney is keeping $5000 in escrow in case I went over.  I asked him for the funds, and of course the buyer had to agree to release the funds.  She didn’t bother to answer for A MONTH.  Now she wants all kinds of money for the morning of 6/9 when she didn’t have the keys.  Now, there *is* a penalty of $350 per day for going past the 7 or 10 business days post-closing grace period, but I didn’t do that.  I was still in the per diem period.  I’m not sure that’s the actual term, since my copy of the contract is one of the important papers that’s off in my storage unit.  I’ve asked my attorney to take a look at that.   Because I didn’t sign the rider the buyer’s attorney wanted me to sign shortening the grace period from 7 business days to 7 calendar days, and I sure as hell didn’t sign anything at the closing that shortened it even further.

Also? She wants $25 for the car fare.  Bullshit.    Especially since I a) do not control the MTA; and b) I left her at least $100 worth of cleaning supplies.

Frankly, I’m ready to litigate if she continues to hold my money hostage.  Make her spend some money to recover that $25 car fare.

I am no longer a homeowner

Published at June 6, 2008 in Real estate and Vanity. 1 Comment

I’m currently renting in my own home.

The closing was Wednesday. It got started late because the buyer’s attorney went to the property manager’s office in Bay Ridge rather than the transfer agent’s office in Borough Park. Then the representative from the buyer’s bank had another closing and couldn’t come until much later, but the transfer agent will only schedule closings for 11 a.m. at his office.

Which was a trip, let me tell you. The transfer agent is Hasidic, and the office is in the basement of what appears to be a residential building. The room where the closings happen looks like it was a kitchen at one point, and there was a refrigerator and stove nearby, and an ironing board in the corner. There was a lot of yelling in Yiddish going on in the other room, and every now and again, a door behind where I was sitting opened up and someone — usually a woman in a housecoat and a turban — came in and, without saying hello or excusing herself, went to the refrigerator and rooted around. I wasn’t sure what they were getting, because the fridge looked empty to me.

Then you had the buyer’s attorney and broker, who were Very Manhattan. The rep from my bank came from Westchester, the rep from the buyer’s bank was from Queens, my attorney was born-and-raised Brooklyn, and my broker lives in my building but was from Arkansas and raised in Dallas.

In the end, all went well, it clocked in at less than two hours, and I walked away with more money than I’ve ever had in my hands at once. And immediately set to work paying bills.

Next step, a sublet for the month of June, then another for July. Then, if all works out, my dogwalker (whom I wound up not firing after all, for a variety of reasons) manages a building in Carroll Gardens and she’s got an apartment opening up August 1. And she can get me in regardless of my lousy credit and my pets. Yay!

Packing

Published at May 26, 2008 in Domesticity, Real estate, Lousy hypocrites, Political theater, Female trouble and Woman-Hating. 6 Comments

Been packing all weekend. Well, I shouldn’t say *all* weekend, since I fucked off on Saturday and am, of course, paying for my laziness now.

The closing is Wednesday; the buyer’s coming in for a final walk-through tomorrow morning. Of course, the place is a wreck, and I have to disguise the new chips in the tub finish and vacuum and sweep the mountains of cat hair.

Fortunately, I don’t have to vacate the day of the closing because my attorney wrote in a post-closing occupancy clause. I have seven business days to move out. And I’ll need them, because I don’t yet have a place to go. The real estate agent who was supposed to call me this weekend to look at properties in Astoria never called, and an apparently promising sublet fell apart because I got to the location and found out that the guy had neglected to mention that it was a sixth-floor walkup. Um, no. I’m meeting someone for a four-month sublet in East Harlem Wednesday evening, and I saw a couple of ads for Williamsburg that might work. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just put my stuff in storage and go to a hotel for a bit.

As part of my effort to de-crappify, I’m getting rid of shitloads of books, at least 150. I have to figure out what to do with them; if I can get a used bookstore to take them and give me credit, I’ll be happy. If not, into the laundry room they go.

I really, really need to get myself a library card so I’m not in the position of *having* 150 books to get rid of. Mind you, I’m keeping a bunch, too, but far less than that.

I’m actually kind of glad I haven’t had time to post this weekend, because I’ve almost reached a point, with the ginned-up outrage over Clinton’s RFK comments (see here for something of a mea culpa from Politico; they ran with the story (with a “bellow of excitement,” no less) after Obama’s spokesman gave them the NY Post interpretation of the remarks; after publication, they got hold of the video of the interview and realized that there wasn’t any there there. Of course, by then, the damage was done, and the Obama campaign insured that the Sunday news shows would be all about Clinton’s gaffe and Obama’s maganimous “taking her at her word” business. While, of course, his campaign continued to shop the story around, adding Keith Olbermann’s self-righteous (and un-self-aware) “special comment,” in which he splutters in outrage that Clinton dares mention RFK’s assassination even though she wasn’t talking about Obama but about her own campaign, apparently conveniently forgetting that he advocated for Clinton’s murder or at least beating into submission not one month ago), that I just want to wash my hands of the whole country.

I’ve known for some time that liberal white doodz are pretty damn misogynist (don’t think so? Just ask, for shits ‘n’ giggles, that they stop referring to women they don’t like as “cunts” sometime), but I don’t think I really appreciated the depths of the hatred. At least I *know* the Republicans hate me and aren’t going to advance any causes that are important to me. Liberals, as I discovered, hate me too, but they have enough liberal guilt to pretend that they don’t, and that they care about my issues — and when they’re threatening you with loss of your rights (ROE V. WADE! ROE V. WADE!) if you don’t do what they want, even as they’re offering you absolutely nothing in return other than the status quo, it’s hard not to think that you’d be better off rolling the dice with the Republicans.

Check another one off the list

Published at May 3, 2008 in Real estate and Vanity. 1 Comment

I just got word that my buyer was approved on Tuesday, and the closing will be scheduled within the next few weeks.

Whee!

Of course, I have no idea where I’m going to live next.  I can’t do any serious apartment-hunting until I have the proceeds in hand, and of course I won’t have those until the actual closing.  I’ll have seven days to move out after the closing, but that’s cutting it close.  I’m hoping to either get something last-minute, or put my stuff in storage and get into a sublet for a month or two while I figure out where to go next.

The pets will be an issue, of course.  I definitely have a place to stash the dog, but the cats might be a problem.  OTOH, it’ll be easier to get a sublet with just them while I look for a dog-friendly building.

Apartments around here are pretty cheap, especially on the other side of Coney Island Avenue closer to Flatbush (which is also closer to a much more convenient subway line).  And there’s Astoria, which is very close to where I work, and also fairly cheap.

I’m kicking myself a little for getting the computer now, but it’s not like I could move in anywhere with $1300, even in Flatbush.

Eh.  It’ll all work out in the end.