​My cat/son Chester’s been an integral part of my life for the past eight years.  I post about him often he’s pretty much CoSP’s mascot.  People don’t think of me without thinking of him.  Whenever I sign birthday/graduation/event cards, I sign them “Craig and Chester.”  So to move to a home without him was, well, unfathomable, to put it mildly.
 
And I was disappointed to see so many places during my search that didn’t allow pets.  I saw a place that checked every box on my list (close to Metro, two bedrooms, larger than my DC apartment) but when I heard pet-free, I dismissed it.  But Don, the listing agent, mentioned the words “service animal” or “ESA” (Emotional Support Animals).  I was good and angry at places that don’t allow pets, yet Chester is super quiet and will not do anywhere near the amount of damage a human child will do.  But the laws won’t allow landlords to ban children.  Chalk that up to familism.
 
I struggled with whether to do this, but I decided I had nothing to lose by trying to get Chester in as an Emotional Support Animal.  Fortunately, the same laws that protect children can also protect animals.  The Fair Housing Act mandates condos and buildings to allow service animals and emotional support animals in the building, and even in those grey areas, the courts tend to favor the resident over the corporation (score one for the little guy!). 
 
And the day I went under contract, I felt a burst of emotion.  Excitement coupled with anxiety.  As I lay down on the couch, Chester put his paw over my heart; that biofeedback worked wonders.  He really is an ESA; aren’t most pets?
 
But I had to fill out an application, get a letter from my therapist, and drive up I-270 to Gaithersburg to get him licensed in Maryland.  I put those forward, but had to wait over a month.  The reason: they couldn’t officially approve him until I was an official resident of the condo.
 
Last week, I got the letter verifying Chester for what he really is.

​Well, I officially understand the phrase “trial by fire,” as it applies to my first week of homeownership.  It was a grueling week, but I did learn a lot.
 
Saturday I began to take measurements and devise ideas on how to design my living space.  Sunday was what Appalachian Trail thru-hikers call a “zero day;” I enjoyed a nice crab cake lunch with my friend Courtney at the Waterfront, my second-favorite place in DC (first is Adams Morgan). 
 
Monday was the day I had set up with contractors I’m calling the big three: a painter, an electrician, a plumber.  Jason set me up with the painter, whom I showed color swatches I’d acquired from Ace Hardware (love that name, and I became a Rewards member there).  Painting will be done after everything else (can’t control drywall damage), but it’s still good to know.  The electrician came by and seemed personable and knowledgeable enough, but after reviewing the estimate with my experienced homeowner mother, we decided he was charging way too much.  The plumber decided not to do the job because they didn’t like working in condos (that would have been nice to know BEFORE they came by, and couldn’t they have read the inspection report?).
 
Tuesday: I had Rush’s “Working Man” in my head as I carried a coffee-filled thermos in one hand and my camoflauge lunch container in the other (“I get up, seven yeah, and I go to work at nine”).  Though, to be fair, a lot of my work consisted of waiting around for the contractors to show up while I alternated between reading a book about innovation in institutions of higher education, reading articles about Singles Studies, reading more articles about writing pedagogy, writing up this blog, and watching DVDs.  I’d set up an appointment with a handyman a day earlier for them to a few jobs: taking out the non-operational laundry hamper from the bathroom wall, taking out the shower door (which would have required me to bend down), replacing a bifold door in the pantry, and putting up a series of ceiling fans and recessed lights throughout the apartment to make it more livable and more modern.  After a three-hour window and one-hour grace period with no arrival from said handyman, I went to donate more clothes to the Salvation Army.  Between this “handyman” and yesterday’s plumber, I was growing disillusioned on getting anything done in the home.
 
Wednesday: “I get up at seven yeah, and I go to work at nine; I got no time for livin’; yes, I’m working all the time.”  Today was more promising; two handymen actually showed up, which put them miles above yesterday’s group.  The second handyman mentioned I’d need a new pantry door; they no longer make the tracks and pegs needed for the original, which was pretty scuffed up as is.  And the plumber I talked to could actually do the job, at a reasonable rate, and in the next couple of days.
 
Thursday: Today was a bit more relaxed; no contractors scheduled, so I transferred a bunch of things (pens, books, cords) from my home to the office.  Thursday’s a jogging day, so afterwards, I went by Ace Hardware to pick up masking tape to write lighting plans for the rooms and post them on walls (thank you, Christina, for that tip).  I also put out requests for handymen on NextDoor (why do contractors take so damn long to arrive at estimates?) and put in for a job on TaskRabbit (the shelving unit on the microwave).
 
Friday: A week from the day I closed.  And another trip up.  I figured with all the back and forth I’ll be doing between DC and North Bethesda, it’d be smart to get the monthly pass.  Plus, I’m covered for as many weekend trips as my little heart desires.  So I did.
 
I was there at 9 sharp to meet with the electrician for that 9-11 window.  I’m getting used to them showing up fifteen minutes after the end of said window; jobs take a while, and that Beltway traffic can be a real doozy.  But this guy was sharp; he had good design suggestions for the lights.  He charged a reasonable estimate.
 
I also had another handyman come in to look at the bathroom jobs, and the plumber did a great job.  Alex, the TaskRabbit, had some suggestions on how to set up my microwave, and he, like the previous handyman, said I would need a door.  So he hooked me up with a place that designs and builds them.  To be continued.
 
Best news: I got my cat/son Chester’s Emotional Support Animal letter approved.  Woo-hoo!
 
And, of course, the plumber did a great job.  The icemaker in my freezer works like a charm.
 
So I recognize much of this post was a big infodump.  But I learned a few things this week (trial by fire can be effective):
 
1)Contractors aren’t always looking for your business.  Sometimes, they just get too much of it.
2)When part of a condo, there are always additional hurdles.  Currently, I have to wait on approval of a Change of Architecture form to be able to update my severely outdated fuse box.
3)The moving-in process always has a lot of moving parts.  For this reason, I will need a “Zero Day” or “Nero Day” as they put it in thru-hiking circles.  This a day where I do nothing home-related, or at least close to it.
 
We’ll see how those work when I check in again a month into the process.

​With the rise of singles has come the increase in single homebuyers/homeowners.  According to most recent data I read, “Forty-two percent of millennials have purchased a home alone, compared to 34 percent of Gen Xers (ages 44-59) and 22 percent of baby boomers (ages 60-78).”  As of May 17, 2024, I am now one of that 34 percent.
 
Being single has given me the flexibility to have a career that’s taken me across the United States: El Paso for my doctorate, southeast Virginia for my first academic job, and DC for a better academic job, which offered me tenure.  And while being a nomad for the past fourteen years has been fun and exciting, I entered a stage where I became ready to stay in one place AND make money off my property.
 
When my father passed away, he left me some money for a down payment on a home.  I grew up in row houses, so for me, the concept of a detached unit with a lawn and a garage is, well, foreign.  I do love to visit them and look at them, but as a single person, I don’t need a large space, but I did want more than the 750 square feet my apartment offered me and Chester.  Besides, I happen to like apartment living.
 
My brother, who had recently purchased a townhouse, showed me the “ins” and “outs” of Redfin, such as how to adjust the down payment to see how much mortgage I’d pay.  I spent the next few months browsing condos and townhouses in DC and Montgomery County in southern Maryland (closest to where I work).  Conclusion: the real estate market doesn’t make it easy for us singletons who only have one income.  Affordable places that met my criteria (condos near DC Metro stops) were few and far between.
 
That said, I did find realtors that understood my needs and expressed confidence in being able to help me find what I needed.  I “interviewed” five, all of whom answered my litmus test question, “What’s your experience in working with solo homebuyers?” well.  I had to ask it; most of these real estate ads feature couples and families (see my hyperlinked article to the left of the parenthetic).  One person said, “This is DC.  Half my clients are solo homebuyers.”  Good enough, true enough.
 
I ended up choosing Jason; I felt most comfortable with his patient, “teacherly” vibe, as well as his in-depth knowledge of Montgomery County.  He showed me and sent me to places in DC and Maryland that looked like good fits.  But the moment I knew what I wanted was when he showed me a two-bedroom condo, 911 square feet, literally a four-minute walk from a Metro stop.  “I’m not a buyer yet, I’m not a buyer yet,” I had to repeat to myself.  Jason continued to show me properties, none of which quite measured up to this place (some of those HOA fees went into the thousands per month!).  In the interim, I did check out one complex at night, as per Jason's suggestion, which I combined with a nice dinner with my friend and fellow singleton Susan. 
 
Finally, on March 10, I became a buyer.  And on this first property, apparently my money wasn’t good enough for this first seller, an investor, because he didn’t respond to my offer.  Five days we waited for him, then we withdrew the offer.

Offer #2: It turned out I was especially impulsive; it was the same location as my first choice, but even closer to the Metro.  But, there was so much gutting that I had to be done, including taking out a mirror.  
 
Offer #3: Same location, close to move-in ready.  An hour and a half after we put down the offer, an investor willing to pay cash and waive an inspection put theirs in.  “Back away, not today,” was what that little voice inside me said. 
 
From a seller’s perspective, I can understand wanting to sell to that kind of buyer; no worries on that end.  From this little solo homebuyer’s angle, grrrrrr!!!!!!
 
Offer #4: This one has lots of space, but the HOA fee was higher than advertised (proofread, people!).
 
Offer #5: I had originally dismissed this place due to its “pet-free” policy. Seriously, my cat/son Chester isn’t going to make anywhere near the amount of noise or do anywhere near the damage a human baby will make.  But the laws do value a more traditional “family,” don’t they?
 
Or maybe not.  Thanks to the Fair Housing Act, Emotional Support Animals must be let in.  And when I’m super stressed, Chester puts his paw across my heart.  If that’s not emotional support, I don’t know what is.
 
Bottom line: I liked everything else about this place.  The location, the space, the quiet, the trees nearby:

​And Jason was able to negotiate a good price.  And only $506 per month in HOA fees.  On March 25 of this year, I officially went under contract.  The next couple of weeks were a blur, as I went through the gauntlet of home inspection, making the good faith deposit, buying homeowners insurance, locking in an interest rate (thank you, Josh, for catching that projected change; he got a nice 6.5% rate compared to the 7+ it’s at now). 
 
The storm calmed for the next month and a half as I navigated the usual end of semester chaos.  Then came the week before closing.  I had to get the remainder of the down payment to Mike, the title attorney.  Something I thought would be very simple turned out to be quite complicated.  I thought the money would go from my trust to my personal account immediately; no such luck.  It needed a red-eye train to get there.  I thought the funds I had would go to Mike immediately; again, not quite. I had to make the trip to the bank, but hey, I am a step counter.
 
They did get there.  May 17, the closing date, came.  I signed my name about 500 times, walked through the unit with Don, the listing agent, and noticed a few things that I’ll discuss in the “Transitioning” post to come.  But, we made it!
 
The feeling of “this is my place” kicked in the next day when I parked my car in one of the parking lots to which I have access.  I’d been parking on crowded streets, which makes one vulnerable to getting hit by other cars before they speed off, which happened to my rear driver's side door right in front of my building.  And when I opened the door to the condo, it fully kicked in.  Placing my electric guitar, amplifier, and a few small boxes into my storage space helped me feel a bit lighter.
 
But, as I sit in my empty condo waiting for a handyperson to arrive, I imagine those feelings between light and heavy will alternate.  But that’ll be highlighted more in the “Transitioning” post.
 
See you on the other side!