The Priceless Lesson of An Unfruitful House Hunt

About a year ago, my wife and I decided to move. That alone wasn’t that big a deal. We had moved before. Several times. What made this move a big deal was that we decided it was time to buy. We’re a family of four now. Our oldest is preschool age now. We’re in our thirties now. We want space. We want safety. We want quality schools. We want to build equity. We want to take that next step towards successful American adulthood. It was time to buy a house. Except, it wasn’t.

The buying process was exhausting. I wish I could say it wasn’t. Everyone we talked to expressed excitement, asked us if we were excited, and suggested we should be. Apparently, it’s a really fun experience. Eh, maybe I should say, “allegedly.” Allegedly, it’s a really fun experience. After all, I never know how much I can believe someone so effusive. Maybe it’s the cynic in me. I just don’t believe it. Whatever the case, it was grueling. I get it. Touring houses can be fun. There’s a hope about it. A look to the future that allows you to dream. But, we live in reality–a reality with questions–and that made things really difficult. 

Where should we live? What do we need from a community? What do we need from a house? Do we need a basement? Do we need a backyard? Do we need an attached garage? How are the schools? What’s the crime index nearby? Are there any neighborhood kids around? How close are we to family and friends? Will I fit (I’m tall, okay)? How much work is required? How much work are we okay with? What’s the asking price? What is it actually worth? How much can we afford? What are the taxes? Can we appeal those? What should we offer? That’s a lot to think about.

Then, when we figured all that out, we needed to find it, somewhere, somehow. So, we checked out Zillow, first. Then realized that Zillow underestimates property taxes, so it underestimates the all-inclusive monthly payment. So, we checked out Realtor. “Hey, Elizabeth Banks is their pitch-woman; I always liked her,” you think. They do the same thing as Zillow, with seemingly fewer properties listed (albeit by only a few, but still). 

Then, I disregarded anything negative any realtor I’ve met mentioned about Redfin, and gave their app a try (clarification: not their realtors). And you know something? As far as real-estate search engines go, I found theirs to be the best. Great selection of properties. Realtor insights (these are pretty weak, and probably meant more as an internal prospecting tool, but it’s something). Most importantly, Redfin has a relatively accurate property tax/payment estimator. So, I got to searching. 

The thing is, I was on it all the time. All. The. Time. How often? All the time. Let me say that again. I was on the app all the time. It’s a full-time job. And if you already have a full-time (and, yes, I consider child rearing a full-time job), that can be tough. So, there I was, constantly searching. Opening. Viewing. Calculating. Refreshing. Constantly. Then, when I found a few spots I wanted to see in person, I’d schedule time with our realtor to go check them out. 

What did I find? Sometimes we’d been catfished! Places now get virtually staged. This means one takes an empty house, and virtually places graphics of furniture, or flooring, or paint colors into the photo. What a sham! Sometimes, we realized that the way the place was shot made it seem more spacious or livable than it actually is. Sometimes we found that I don’t fit in any shower in the house. Or in the basement. Or through doorways. Or in bedrooms on the second floor. Sometimes we found a house that’s okay, only to realize later it’s in a flood plain that will cost an extra $3k a year in insurance. Or there’s water damage and mold. Or that the “newer” roof and windows are actually in need of immediate replacement. Or that the wood siding is in desperate need of $10k in exterior painting to prevent serious wood rot issues. Or that the 1.5 car garage doesn’t exist. That 2nd full bathroom? Not there. The sub-basement listed? Magically disappeared. Or, the market has over-valued this house by $50k–a market that is projected to recalibrate within the next 18-24 months. Ugh! 

My point is we found a lot, and it was all wrong. After a while, we started to revisit our questions. We wondered about what we could live with, and what we couldn’t live without. We wondered about stretching our budget and becoming house poor. We wondered if we really needed that community, or that school system. We updated and refreshed our search. We selected more properties. We went out again. And again. And again. Thing is, I feel bad for my wife. There were a few houses that were lovely. But I could not fit. And when I would consider making a sacrifice, she wouldn’t allow it. She knew I wouldn’t be comfortable. She feared that our two boys would grow up and be uncomfortable. Both of those things made her uncomfortable. So, we searched, and we searched, and we searched. Until we could search no more.

Our lease came up at the end of June, and by mid-May, we had no house to live in. So, we made the hard choice–to rent again. Renting isn’t a bad deal. We had rented before, and we lived in some pretty nice places. That wasn’t the tough part. The thing that got me came in the dashing of expectations that came with the decision. I was bummed. All that time, energy, work, driving, schlepping, thought–out the window. At least it seemed that way. 

We salvaged what we could, and decided to use this next phase as a tryout. We picked a community we were interested in, rather than stay put. The neighborhood we were in was getting less safe, with a sudden uptick in violent crime, and the long-term educational options were less than adequate. We knew we needed to move for our long-term plan. As a result, we decided to make lemonade out of the lemons upon lemons we saw on the housing market, and scope out a community where we could see ourselves settling down for the long haul by renting again.

I knew it was the smart play. I knew it was the necessary move. I knew, like much of what we’re dealt in life, it was temporary. Still, I couldn’t get over this immense feeling of failure I felt. I let my family down; I didn’t find our house. My wife didn’t believe that. My kids didn’t either. No one did, but me. In my head, I failed. I shared this with a friend, and she couldn’t believe it. I gotta say, I appreciate her for setting me straight. She told me, “You didn’t fail. You just didn’t settle. That’s not failure.” And while it took me a while for that to sink in and believe it, she was right. 

During that process, I let my expectations for the when, and the how overrule my expectations for the what, and the why. I got so preoccupied with meeting an arbitrary deadline that, oh, by the way, I made up, that I lost sight of what was really important. I realized that’s where that feeling of failure comes from. In acknowledging the finality of struggle, or challenge, or failure, or defeat, or the process. My goal should have always been to find a home (maybe not a purchased house) best for our family–one that’s safe, accessible to my wife’s office, educationally and socially rich for my kids, comfortable for us all, and within budget. That’s the what and the why of our move. That’s what’s most important. Having that was the true marker of success in this chapter. That’s what we needed, and somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that. 

Unfortunately, this happens often. I let my internal timeframes have too much say in how I feel about my level of success–and that, in turn, warps my what. Sometimes things aren’t right. Sometimes, life gets in the way. Sometimes, the market isn’t right. Sometimes, things come up. Success lies in taking what you get, and making the most of it while continuing to pursue that which you set out to achieve. We live in a world that likes to fabricate time restrictions, and concoct status markers. Those are made up. I realize that now. For me–for my family–I need to keep this realization top of mind in the future. 

Currently, my family is living in a great spot, in a great home. No, we don’t own it. Right now, that’s okay. What’s important is that we didn’t settle. We have the what and why we need. We found a way to make the best of the situation we found ourselves in, and we like it. Might we buy in the future? Maybe. But we might not. A generation ago, that might seem unfortunate. Now, we’re learning that there are other ways of building our financial portfolio, of viewing housing, of conceptualizing The American Dream, and of determining success. Sure, house hunting was tough, and no, we didn’t come away from the process owning a home. But we sometimes have to go through something tough gain insight, value, and satisfaction. I have each of those things now, and for that, I’m grateful. 

Header image by Paul Brennan on Pixabay.