Here We Go

When we first set out to buy a house, we were not looking for a "fixer upper." We know as much as diddly squat about renovating, remodeling, or updating a house. We have the tools to hang up a few pictures, and that is about it. Well then we found our house, and it was just what we were looking for in every way, except for the fact that it needed mainly cosmetic updates throughout. Then came the inspection, and a few more things went on the list of needed repairs. We weren't sure we would be able to swing it, until our mortgage lender found a way for us to not have to put any money up front. We were quite relieved to know that we would then be able to use our money for the needed updates and repairs on the house, instead of for the down payment. Everything seemed to be going just our way, and it seemed like it would all work out according to plan.

Now, suddenly, we are about to be knee deep in updates and repairs on this fixer upper of ours. Yesterday, we met with a contractor at the house to get some quotes on the work that we would like to have done. Mind you, the day before we had made a prioritized spread sheet type list of everything we would like to do in the house. (Guess whose idea the spread sheet was?) The list is 84 items long. Some are big things, like replacing carpet, and some are small things, like capping an unused gas line. We then divided the list into things we thought we could do ourselves, and things we knew we would need a professional to do.

So in the end, we presented Mr. Contractor with a list of 45 items. He was very nice, very professional, and seems like a trustworthy person. He went through the list, making notes, and asking us questions as needed. I'm sure he could tell that half of the stuff we really had no idea about, except that we would like to have it done and have no idea how to do it or how much it would cost. He never made us feel stupid about anything we were unsure about, and even made suggestions for ways that we could do some things cheaper, even if it meant he would not be the one doing it for us. He genuinely seemed to want to help us.

Then Mr. Presumptious Douchebag, the flooring and countertop specialist, shows up. He was neither genuine, nor trying to help us achieve what we were trying to achieve. He only wanted to talk about the options that he wanted to do. Of course, they were the higher priced, higher end options, that we most likely will not be able to afford. The quotes he gave us for the floors and the counters were not even the ones we were originally asking for, but the higher end options that he had suggested. Sure, we would like to be able to afford those things. But the stark reality is that the quotes he gave us for those options would take up more than half of our budget. We really appreciate you wasting our time buddy, but I think we'll be shopping around, thankyouverymuch!

So we are now anxiously awaiting the rest of the quotes from Mr. Nice Contractor. I really hope that the prices he gives us don't make us wet our pants. I really hope that we will have the ability to do at least the higher priority improvements before we move in. I really hope this doesn't turn into a nightmare, a disaster, or a huge ass reality check. And I really hope we are not getting in over our heads. Please Mr. Contractor, help us make our house into a home, not a living nightmare.

Whatever we can't afford to have the contractor do, we'll have to either put off doing or do by ourselves. I am so scared this is going to turn into a horrible episode of a do-it-yourself "Flip This House," where the featured homeowner makes all the wrong decisions and everything goes horribly wrong. Or that old 80's movie, "The Money Pit." And that would just really suck.