The Home Search
One of our main reasons for moving back home to Texas was to buy a home. As much as I’d love to own a brownstone (or 300sq ft studio) in Brooklyn, it just wasn’t going to happen.
We only had a 10% down payment in early 2019, but the Austin market was starting to heat up. Neighborhoods we had been looking at were quickly exceeding our price range. So we called our agent and started looking.
Before we found “the one” we had been aggressively searching for the right deal for months. Our first offer got beat out by an all cash buyer. In retrospect, who did we think we were trying to snag a pool in our price range?
Our offer was accepted on the second house, but major plumbing issues were discovered on inspection. The seller wasn’t willing to negotiate and thought we should eat the cost for the 30k+ main sewer line repair. Um… no thanks guy. Our dreams of popping champagne in our very own granny bath tub were dead.
Could it be?
A month later we went on a day of showings with our agent. As we drove to the last showing of the day, I told my husband “Just wait, we could fall in love with this last one.” As soon as we walked in we knew that this was it.
Was it the renovated mid-century home of our dreams? Absolutely not. Was it outdated but in a retro-kitsch way with green carpet and mushroom wallpaper? Nuh-huh.
But it did have some good bones that were shockingly hard to find. Minus a dividing wall, a very open layout. It was a 4/2 in an area of 3/1s. A corner lot on .25 acre. In a tiny subdivision with a park and community garden. Our hypothetical kids would be cheetahs at a dual-language school within walking distance. And only 6 miles to downtown!
A shiny turd
It also had missing flooring in several rooms with baseboards glued to the wall. A galley kitchen with non-closing painted cabinets and lovely bathroom tile countertops. And some unfortunate soul had fallen through the ceiling in the garage.
Outside there was a rotting deck on a cracked concrete pad. Rusted gutters led to a series of tubes that we were told was a french drain, but was later monikered the cajun drain (kind of french but not). An overhang on the side yard that kept 2000 unused pavers dry while also causing stair step cracks on the brick work. And ivy the owners had planted that was spreading like a cancer on the home’s exterior.
It had potential. Which is basically saying it’s crap that can be polished. And we paid 353k for that shiny turd.
Rolling up our sleeves
When we moved in, we immediately got to work. We knew if we put in enough sweat equity, we could get a loan to rehab the rest.
In less than 3 years, here’s a brief summary of the largest projects we sweat out:
- painted the entire exterior and interior
- took down the overhang and its 10,000 screws
- put in un drain français
- dismantled the rotted deck
- removed two concrete pads with sledgehammers
- dug and laid a 400 sq ft limestone patio
- dug and laid a 200 sq ft brick patio
- built a 25 ft retaining wall with drainage
- put in 8 paved garden beds
- Relandscaped the entire front and backyard
- updated a bathroom
On top of that, we contracted professionals to:
- Install a new galvenized metal roof
- Install a new AC unit
- Install seamless gutters
- Remediate mold and rebuild a shower
- Renovate kitchen
- Install engineered hardwood & baseboards
- Install new windows
- Trim trees
“Equity”: an unrealized gain
By the time we were ready to refinance, the Austin market had completely changed. I’m still not sure whether to thank Elon Musk, Joe Rogan, or the 40k+ other new tech bro Texans who brought us good fortune. But howdy y’all, you’ve made me rich (in equity).
At the height of the market in 2022, our 353k shiny turd had a drive-by appraisal range of 634k-800k. And because we’ve lived in it for more than 2 years, we’d pay no capital gains on the 281k-447k profit (minus agent fees & HELOAN). So now we are seriously considering selling it when the market rebounds.
Oops, I think we just flipped our house.
Leave a Reply