Waiting is
I’ve been a somewhat absentee blogger this past month. Among the many things distracting me: Pocahontas and I have been house-shopping.
Shopping for a home in the Bay Area is the opposite of buying a computer — you always wish you’d bought a year ago. Houses have been appreciating that fast, little slowed by the Tech Bubble bursting or even rampant unemployment.
When I finally graduated college, after a long and complicated career as a student, I was $25,000 in debt. I immediately bought a car, and became $10,000 further in debt. This seemed at the time like a daunting, crushing obligation. Like I would never be free of it.
It was several years ago now that I paid off the last of my student loans. I’ve been debt-free for years, having never carried credit-card debt. It’s felt good.
I’ve always associated mortgages with being shackled to a desk. With giving up on bohemian artistic dreams and resigning myself to being a dull salaryman, with my life defined by money: working for someone else to pay off my debts.
It’s not like I lead an especially bohemian lifestyle. But I could. I could quit my job, sell my possessions, and move to Arizona. Or Hawaii. Or Colorado. I could take off across the country by bike. I could move someplace cheap and rent a squalid artist’s garret and write a novel. And, embarrassing as it is, at some level that fantasy has been important to me.
No, that’s not right. It’s my self-identity as a writer and artist that’s important to me. The embarrassing part is that I’ve spent so much time pretending there’s some black and white dichotomy between a life that includes a day job and a romanticized impoverished artist’s life. That at some level I’ve clung to the idea that pursuing one of those fantasies is The Way to lead a fulfilling life. And that a fulfilling life is something exclusive with a life resembling the one that I do.
And meanwhile I spend a fortune in rent without any equity to show for it, and don’t get much writing done.
Pocahontas and I made an offer on a house this morning. It’s gorgeous: an 1898 house with nearly everything recently re-done, including seismic retrofitting. Three bedrooms, two baths. A back yard. A lovely kitchen with a gas stove with a fan over it, and a double-sink. Beautiful hardwood floors. Good light: lots of big windows. A large tub with a whirlpool bath.
And it’s right by downtown. I timed it tonight: literally a five minute walk to the Y. Which also means a short walk to the library, movies, bookstores, cafes, theatres, restaurants, the Sunday farmers’ market, the BART, and, generally, all the things I live in a city for. And that’s also its only downside. There’ll be street noise. Not too bad, we hope. And Pocahontas’ kitties will have to stay indoors, but it’s a big enough indoors for two cats to run around.
No other place we looked at has been nearly so nice. No locations we were really enthusiastic about. Everything else has been a little too small, and required extensive modifications before we could be happy with it. And still cost a fortune. Pocahontas was expecting that we’d have to settle for a “starter house” to begin accruing equity and sell it after a few years for something we’d really like. I really hate moving and had little enthusiasm for this idea, but was beginning to become resigned to it.
But this place is nearly perfect as is. The rear deck and stairs have dry rot and need replacing some time soon. And that’s it, unless the seller’s thorough documentation deliberately misrepresents something. And unless we learn we can’t live with the street noise, we see no reason now we couldn’t still be happy there indefinitely.
We saw it Sunday, acted quickly, and, this morning we signed papers toward becoming a half million dollars in debt.
We’ve asked for a response to our offer within 24 hours. Since the seller isn’t in the area and at best would have gotten it at the end of today, it’s probably most realistic not to expect a response before Thursday.
Until then, we wait.
And I remind myself that salaryman or bohemian, the important thing has always been sitting down with pen and paper and doing the writing.
Congratulations on the house purchase. Sounds like you found a great deal. Also sounds like the housing market in the Bay Area is even tighter than that in New Jersey, and I didn't think that was possible.
As for the writing, everyone knows that you can invent endless excuses for not writing. I've done it myself and watched many other people do it. I always like to fall back on something that Gene Wolfe said at a convention years ago:
"If you want to write, write. Don't just sit around and bitch about it."
The world is full of successful writers who had day jobs, as well as those who didn't. The circumstances shape the art, but in the end it's the art, not the circumstances, that make the artist.
Posted by Jimcat on June 11 2003 05:26
Yeah, congrats! Do it! It's better than throwing money down the rental-pit. And if you ever want to go blow off and write you can sell the house, make a few thousand and live off that for a couple months ...
Posted by JL on June 11 2003 17:19