Our mortgage broker told us last Monday that the new appraiser (hired by the underwriter's intermediary - the number of parties involved in a loan gets pretty confusing) would call to set up payment first, then schedule an appointment at the house with F. I'm delighted when they call on Tuesday, thought maybe we'd have to wait until after Thanksgiving. I give payment information, the appraiser calls the house and speaks to the Husband, who connects her with F. Turns out the appraiser lives in Discovery Bay, not familiar with Richmond at all. F. sends her comps from the previous appraiser; Appraiser 2 asks about similar areas, and F. tells her about Richmond Annex, sends more comps. They schedule an appointment for the day before Thanksgiving.
F. discovers there is no lockbox on the door the night before the appointment; calls the selling agent to ask how to get in, he says, "Use the key from the lockbox." Uh-oh. He arrives, discovers someone has cut off the lokbox, gone inside and stolen the washer and dryer, and the hood over the stove (?!!!). How is this possible? I tell others about this, start hearing horror stories of fully-staged houses in Piedmont, San Francisco, Walnut Creek being emptied by thieves. Feel slightly better that this is not a Richmond-centric crime.
The selling agent is a champ, gets a new hood up before the appraiser arrives on Wed. Appraiser 2 likes the neighborhood, likes the house; complains to F. about the new rules on appraising, and that she gets called to appraise neighborhoods she has no familiarity with (like Richmond - and her next stops are Oakland and Walnut Creek, never appraised in either area). We're hopeful that she will appraise at our offer level, but then the underwriter has to accept it, so there's no predicting success. Appraiser 2 tells F. she will turn in her appraisal by Monday, and we should hear from the underwriter by Wed. Just trying not to despair.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Moving Along at a Fast Clip, And Then...
Things were going along so well, you knew it couldn't last. We shared the inspection report with the sellers, and to our complete surprise, they agreed to replace the roof. No negotiation, no splitting of costs, they would simply handle it. We sent them an offer addendum, and they signed it without hesitation.
Some of the remodeling quotes we've received have caused us to clutch our hearts (and my inner calculator starts ratcheting up). Replace all the windows with new vinyl (not paintable fiberglass)? $10,000. Sewer lateral? $4,100. Put in wood floors in the living and dining rooms and front hall? $7,000 for 500 square feet. (That last quote was from the champagne of wood floor companies - we will now be looking into the beer price range).
The mortgage broker let us know that the underwriter asked for a little clarification from the appraiser, wanted to know why he had gone so high (just over our $360K offer). He provided, they approved the loan and the broker requested the "loan docs." The underwriter did mention that the appraisal had to go through a "desk review," but suggested that this was a formality, no reason we couldn't move ahead. I was beginning to think that maybe we could close by Nov. 30.
Then on Friday, it all caved in. We got an email from our broker saying that the desk review appraisal had come in much lower than our offer - just $300K, in fact. He was flabbergasted, our agent was flabbergasted, even the rep for the underwriter was flabbergasted. The desk review is just what it sounds like - some person in suburban Los Angeles looks at the appraiser's reports, pulls their own comparative prices (and in this case, they pulled short sales and foreclosures from around Richmond, although this property is neither). Does not visit the property, doesn't know the neighborhood - but makes the final decision on appraised value. No appeal.
So our loan went up in smoke. We are scrambling to restructure our loan and work with another lender - conventional, not FHA - and of course pay for another appraisal. We let the selling agent know, he was very understanding, and shocked at the low appraisal. I am now back to work on my house ulcer.
Some of the remodeling quotes we've received have caused us to clutch our hearts (and my inner calculator starts ratcheting up). Replace all the windows with new vinyl (not paintable fiberglass)? $10,000. Sewer lateral? $4,100. Put in wood floors in the living and dining rooms and front hall? $7,000 for 500 square feet. (That last quote was from the champagne of wood floor companies - we will now be looking into the beer price range).
The mortgage broker let us know that the underwriter asked for a little clarification from the appraiser, wanted to know why he had gone so high (just over our $360K offer). He provided, they approved the loan and the broker requested the "loan docs." The underwriter did mention that the appraisal had to go through a "desk review," but suggested that this was a formality, no reason we couldn't move ahead. I was beginning to think that maybe we could close by Nov. 30.
Then on Friday, it all caved in. We got an email from our broker saying that the desk review appraisal had come in much lower than our offer - just $300K, in fact. He was flabbergasted, our agent was flabbergasted, even the rep for the underwriter was flabbergasted. The desk review is just what it sounds like - some person in suburban Los Angeles looks at the appraiser's reports, pulls their own comparative prices (and in this case, they pulled short sales and foreclosures from around Richmond, although this property is neither). Does not visit the property, doesn't know the neighborhood - but makes the final decision on appraised value. No appeal.
So our loan went up in smoke. We are scrambling to restructure our loan and work with another lender - conventional, not FHA - and of course pay for another appraisal. We let the selling agent know, he was very understanding, and shocked at the low appraisal. I am now back to work on my house ulcer.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Who's Afraid of a Little Inspection??
The inspector did his look-see (several hours worth) on Friday, sent his report today. Luckily he walked me, my brother and F. through the highlights on Friday (The Husband is away in the homelands of the Midwest, being a good son and making his wife proud.). The two big issues: the house needs a new roof - and gutters, and eave works; and a new circuit board - there are several old fuse boxes in the house, all with larger fuses than they were designed to handle, but still not enough to power modern appliances. There are wooden (wooden!) gutters on the lower level of the house, and the inspector illustrated the need for new ones by taking his poking tool and reaching up to poke a hole in the gutter over the garage - with no apparent effort. Yikes.
The inspector waxed rhapsodically about the state-of-the-art furnace, installed in 2006, with 97% efficiency rating and sparkling new ductwork. His enthusiasm was infectious, but our spirits dimmed a bit when he told us there was absolutely no insulation in the attic, and several upstairs windows did not close all the way. So much for furnace efficiency! Quirks all over the house, including a panic switch in the second bedroom; when switched, it rings a very loud alarm bell outside. Say wha???
F., my brother, our friend who stopped by, all tried to persuade me to keep the giant banquette and matching mod lighting fixture in the kitchen. I agreed to consider it, but the butterflies have GOT to go.
The inspector waxed rhapsodically about the state-of-the-art furnace, installed in 2006, with 97% efficiency rating and sparkling new ductwork. His enthusiasm was infectious, but our spirits dimmed a bit when he told us there was absolutely no insulation in the attic, and several upstairs windows did not close all the way. So much for furnace efficiency! Quirks all over the house, including a panic switch in the second bedroom; when switched, it rings a very loud alarm bell outside. Say wha???
F., my brother, our friend who stopped by, all tried to persuade me to keep the giant banquette and matching mod lighting fixture in the kitchen. I agreed to consider it, but the butterflies have GOT to go.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Hurtling Forward
After months of frustration and rejection (that I internalized completely - why wouldn't someone want a nice responsible couple like the Husband and I to buy their house?), it's a little unnerving how quickly everything starts rolling once the offer is accepted.
Appointments this Friday for property, roof and pest inspections; sewer lateral repair will come drop their video in the pipes to take a peek, and the wood floor guy coming by to take a look and give us an estimate.
F. and the Husband met the loan appraiser at the house today; he gave the place a big thumbs up, told them no worries on the appraised value. F. told me later that the Husband walked around with a clipboard, inspecting doors and windows (once a cop, always a cop). Sure enough, he called later and said the sliding glass door in back needed to be replaced, and we needed to put burglar bars on the laundry room window, because it was tucked away where no neighbors could see it. I am now in the process of tracking down window replacement quotes. I see my future - and it's all home improvement. But I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to choosing our own colors for the walls. Farewell, apartment white walls!!
Appointments this Friday for property, roof and pest inspections; sewer lateral repair will come drop their video in the pipes to take a peek, and the wood floor guy coming by to take a look and give us an estimate.
F. and the Husband met the loan appraiser at the house today; he gave the place a big thumbs up, told them no worries on the appraised value. F. told me later that the Husband walked around with a clipboard, inspecting doors and windows (once a cop, always a cop). Sure enough, he called later and said the sliding glass door in back needed to be replaced, and we needed to put burglar bars on the laundry room window, because it was tucked away where no neighbors could see it. I am now in the process of tracking down window replacement quotes. I see my future - and it's all home improvement. But I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to choosing our own colors for the walls. Farewell, apartment white walls!!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Momentum Starts to Build
F. got the contract back, no sneaky changes, so go, go, go. She's already scheduled property, roof and pest inspections for one day next week; also has the sewer lateral video inspection (City of Richmond has a grant program for sewer laterals, but you have to submit a video inspection and three bids). Since she knows that we want to replace the carpet in the living room and dining room before moving in, she suggests getting them out for an estimate the same day.
We met with the mortgage broker on Friday; he took us through our various options. Both the Husband and I thought he'd been through Dale Carnegie training, because he made a point of saying our names every time he responded to a question. "Well, M., that's a very good question." "Now, M., the reason that I bring this up is..." We signed heaps of paper, many more to follow, I know.
We finished up with time to spare, so on our way home we stopped at Tulip Floors in Berkeley, since the Husband and I had not discussed specifics of a wood floor, and I wanted to find out if we were on the same page. We both wanted darker wood (yay) but the Husband surprised me by leaning towards a scraped finish - he said a flat finish looks like you've panelled your floor. Seven years of marriage, and I'm still learning new things. Scraped finish it is! We make an appointment for Tulip to come out and measure, give us an estimate.
Then we go home and sit with a calculator and some paper, and write all the numbers down. Once again, I feel the need for a brown bag. There's not much chance we can close by November 30, so hoping the federal government will extend the tax benefit for first time homebuyers past November 30...that $8,000 would be a nice step to replenishing the savings.
We met with the mortgage broker on Friday; he took us through our various options. Both the Husband and I thought he'd been through Dale Carnegie training, because he made a point of saying our names every time he responded to a question. "Well, M., that's a very good question." "Now, M., the reason that I bring this up is..." We signed heaps of paper, many more to follow, I know.
We finished up with time to spare, so on our way home we stopped at Tulip Floors in Berkeley, since the Husband and I had not discussed specifics of a wood floor, and I wanted to find out if we were on the same page. We both wanted darker wood (yay) but the Husband surprised me by leaning towards a scraped finish - he said a flat finish looks like you've panelled your floor. Seven years of marriage, and I'm still learning new things. Scraped finish it is! We make an appointment for Tulip to come out and measure, give us an estimate.
Then we go home and sit with a calculator and some paper, and write all the numbers down. Once again, I feel the need for a brown bag. There's not much chance we can close by November 30, so hoping the federal government will extend the tax benefit for first time homebuyers past November 30...that $8,000 would be a nice step to replenishing the savings.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Can It Be True???
Could this long ordeal be over? F. calls (and I happen to be staring at my computer screen, so see an email from our mortgage broker flash up just as the phone rings). The selling agent says the seller has accepted our offer -BUT - the agent wants to review the offer agreement when the seller FedExes it back. He is concerned that retired-real-estate-attorney- seller may have made changes to the agreement without telling him. But tentatively...full steam ahead!!
F. starts talking inspection, pest report, sewer lateral, and my head starts to whirl. Mortgage Broker wants to set up a meeting pronto to get our paperwork and do some signing. Do I keep a brown bag in my office? Must call the Husband.
My boss stops by, tells me to just think of it as Monopoly money, smile and sign. If you give it too much thought, he says, you'd never do it.
I pull up the house on the street view of Google Maps and stare at it for a long, long time.
F. starts talking inspection, pest report, sewer lateral, and my head starts to whirl. Mortgage Broker wants to set up a meeting pronto to get our paperwork and do some signing. Do I keep a brown bag in my office? Must call the Husband.
My boss stops by, tells me to just think of it as Monopoly money, smile and sign. If you give it too much thought, he says, you'd never do it.
I pull up the house on the street view of Google Maps and stare at it for a long, long time.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Got Patience? Can You Loan Me Some??
I am doing surprisingly well not thinking about the Richmond house every minute - helps that I'm crazy busy at work. But at lunch today I found myself shopping for window treatments that would just happen to fit the large windows in a certain unowned-by-us house. And watching Sweat Equity on DIY has become an obsession, especially since it's bathroom and kitchen week!!!
The Husband and I cruised five open houses on Sunday. The first was a smallish (870 sq ft) mock-MacGregor in El Cerrito. Tiny living room with a ginormous kitchen behind it, with a sadly neglected O'Keefe & Merritt stove (neglecting a stove of that vintage should be a felony). Built in 1925, it had another interesting feature; the bedroom closets had multiple short bars that were perpendicular to the back wall, instead of one long one parallel. Death-defying back stairs to the yard and the back door to the basement semi-finished, very damp, and we looked around for a coal chute for the ancient furnace. The very nice agent sitting in the kitchen told us he had gotten estimates for pest, electrical, new furnace. Asking price: $419.5.
We headed up into the hills for the second house, up above the Arlington at the north end, where El Cerrito becomes Richmond. The flyer said "generous fixer," and they weren't kidding about the fixer part - a huge living room with big windows toward the Bay, but the view mostly blocked by the birch trees planted in the front yard. And there was a definite slope downward on all the front rooms, severe enough that closet and bathroom doors would not close. Little hallways ran off in all directions, a bedroom here, two or three there. All with shredded, threadbare carpet, tatty old wallpaper. There was an attempt to modernize the dining room in the 70s, I guessed, because the built-in cabinets were painted avocado green, with glued on rocks for a mosaic effect. The kitchen had dark brown cabinets, dark brown appliances, dark brown floor - gave the feeling of a muddy tunnel. All this could be ours for just $299K.
Down the hill into northern El Cerrito to look at a little bungalow built around 1916. Two bedrooms, and the owners have done a lovely job with color and design updates inside; the driveway is closed off to make more of the yard, and it is a bit over-landscaped; the Husband starts pointing out what he'd pull out. A closer look at the outside shows many, many cracks in the stucco, and there are holes right under the eaves. We chat with the agent, who it turns out, was the agent for the pink house in Richmond Annex (he kindly tells us we made a very nice bid, but we hear again that the folks who got it bid $2K more than we did and waived inspection, so paid for the $13K in section 1 repairs out of their own pocket. Bygones.). He tells us that these owners are tough, but will pay for the new roof that's needed, but will not cover the sewer lateral or the plumbing repairs that need to be done under the house. We like him very much, but it is clear to us that these owners did the cosmetic things and ignored the bones of the house. Asking price: $479K.
There's an open house catty-corner from this one, we decide to peek. The flyer calls it and elegant 1920s "Exec Home," and we are wowed as soon as we step inside, see the high ceilinged foyer with a sweeping staircase curving up the back wall. Huge living room, huge dining room, I could see Don Draper from Mad Men buying this place to entertain. There's a maid's bedroom and bathroom off the kitchen; the master bedroom upstairs has a walk-in closet for clothes, and another closet with all kinds of cupboards for accessories. Not a single thing has been updated in the kitchen or bathrooms, and it's still lovely. We look out the back window, and our hearts fall - the entire backyard has been paved in cement, and the entire width of the back property line is an open, four-car garage. Not a speck of green anywhere. Who turns an entire yard into a driveway? The binder in the kitchen tells a sad story of new roof needed, $30K pest report, new electrical estimate. I stop in the foyer and say to the Husband, "If we had more money, we could fix this up beautifully." He says, "If we had more money, we'd buy one already fixed." Therein lies our respective feelings about houses, in one exchange. Asking price on this fixer: $599K.
We're headed for home when we see an open house sign for one of the ones I looked at with F. and ruled out - the fixer filled with creepy reminders of sad occupants. The Husband wants a peek, so we park, walk through the open garage to the backyard, in through the utility room door, and explore the whole back of the house before we encounter the agent sitting on the old plaid couch in the dining room. I am immediately reminded of Mama from the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape." She is very large, in a loose-fitting muu-muu of a top, sunk into the couch like it's eating her whole. A young girl in the room with her hands us the flyer, and the agent never moves from the couch (I'm not sure she could, without help), chatting us up. I'm getting a fresh set of the creeps. We can't get out the door fast enough.
The Husband and I cruised five open houses on Sunday. The first was a smallish (870 sq ft) mock-MacGregor in El Cerrito. Tiny living room with a ginormous kitchen behind it, with a sadly neglected O'Keefe & Merritt stove (neglecting a stove of that vintage should be a felony). Built in 1925, it had another interesting feature; the bedroom closets had multiple short bars that were perpendicular to the back wall, instead of one long one parallel. Death-defying back stairs to the yard and the back door to the basement semi-finished, very damp, and we looked around for a coal chute for the ancient furnace. The very nice agent sitting in the kitchen told us he had gotten estimates for pest, electrical, new furnace. Asking price: $419.5.
We headed up into the hills for the second house, up above the Arlington at the north end, where El Cerrito becomes Richmond. The flyer said "generous fixer," and they weren't kidding about the fixer part - a huge living room with big windows toward the Bay, but the view mostly blocked by the birch trees planted in the front yard. And there was a definite slope downward on all the front rooms, severe enough that closet and bathroom doors would not close. Little hallways ran off in all directions, a bedroom here, two or three there. All with shredded, threadbare carpet, tatty old wallpaper. There was an attempt to modernize the dining room in the 70s, I guessed, because the built-in cabinets were painted avocado green, with glued on rocks for a mosaic effect. The kitchen had dark brown cabinets, dark brown appliances, dark brown floor - gave the feeling of a muddy tunnel. All this could be ours for just $299K.
Down the hill into northern El Cerrito to look at a little bungalow built around 1916. Two bedrooms, and the owners have done a lovely job with color and design updates inside; the driveway is closed off to make more of the yard, and it is a bit over-landscaped; the Husband starts pointing out what he'd pull out. A closer look at the outside shows many, many cracks in the stucco, and there are holes right under the eaves. We chat with the agent, who it turns out, was the agent for the pink house in Richmond Annex (he kindly tells us we made a very nice bid, but we hear again that the folks who got it bid $2K more than we did and waived inspection, so paid for the $13K in section 1 repairs out of their own pocket. Bygones.). He tells us that these owners are tough, but will pay for the new roof that's needed, but will not cover the sewer lateral or the plumbing repairs that need to be done under the house. We like him very much, but it is clear to us that these owners did the cosmetic things and ignored the bones of the house. Asking price: $479K.
There's an open house catty-corner from this one, we decide to peek. The flyer calls it and elegant 1920s "Exec Home," and we are wowed as soon as we step inside, see the high ceilinged foyer with a sweeping staircase curving up the back wall. Huge living room, huge dining room, I could see Don Draper from Mad Men buying this place to entertain. There's a maid's bedroom and bathroom off the kitchen; the master bedroom upstairs has a walk-in closet for clothes, and another closet with all kinds of cupboards for accessories. Not a single thing has been updated in the kitchen or bathrooms, and it's still lovely. We look out the back window, and our hearts fall - the entire backyard has been paved in cement, and the entire width of the back property line is an open, four-car garage. Not a speck of green anywhere. Who turns an entire yard into a driveway? The binder in the kitchen tells a sad story of new roof needed, $30K pest report, new electrical estimate. I stop in the foyer and say to the Husband, "If we had more money, we could fix this up beautifully." He says, "If we had more money, we'd buy one already fixed." Therein lies our respective feelings about houses, in one exchange. Asking price on this fixer: $599K.
We're headed for home when we see an open house sign for one of the ones I looked at with F. and ruled out - the fixer filled with creepy reminders of sad occupants. The Husband wants a peek, so we park, walk through the open garage to the backyard, in through the utility room door, and explore the whole back of the house before we encounter the agent sitting on the old plaid couch in the dining room. I am immediately reminded of Mama from the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape." She is very large, in a loose-fitting muu-muu of a top, sunk into the couch like it's eating her whole. A young girl in the room with her hands us the flyer, and the agent never moves from the couch (I'm not sure she could, without help), chatting us up. I'm getting a fresh set of the creeps. We can't get out the door fast enough.
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