Paint Problem

I'm behind on posting about last week's progress, and I will update on the interior tonight (hopefully).
However, this is an emergency.
The exterior paint has gone up (first coat) and you all were so helpful in picking a trim color. It is really hard to visualize this kind of thing, and I had no idea that the cinder block would brown so much (we're planning on leaving it sealed, but natural). We're having trouble pin-pointing exactly what we don't like, but we both know we don't like it all together. Something is amok. And I know it's going to annoy us if we don't fix it. The trim paint color is a brown but on the purple side of brown. And green trim is almost to sparse to make a real impact. Add in browning, meant-to-be-grey cinder block and we're left feeling like it's the exterior paint version of Lohan, i.e. Hot Mess.
Help.
I extra love the Humorous Green for the front door, but around the thin trim, it comes off looking like the punch line of a joke being repeated over and over until it's just not funny anymore.
I like the Bitter Chocolate on the balcony railing, and I'm thinking that it may be better to repeat that color on the window trim instead. Don't get me wrong, I'm leaving the green door.
Andrew has a different idea, and feels like the window trim should be a dark grey now. I am not particularly liking the idea if adding yet ANOTHER color to the mix, and think that could end up being a different but also messy look.
Andrew is even bringing out fighting words. As in, "but the balcony is MAROON." No offense to the Aggies, but I have an innate dislike for the maroon decor of the early nineties, and Andrew is playing this card to his advantage. RASCAL.
Help. Are we barking up the wrong paint disaster?

It's a Nice Day for White Walls

All the taping and floating was finished this week, and we have somewhat white walls! Next week they will texture the walls/ceiling and work on the baseboards and door trims.

Week 11 - Meeting with the GC is always entertaining. We get a long well, and I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a little nutty.

Week 11 - Eventually there will be metal railing up here, but for now we're kind of enjoying the open look.

Week 11 - The pointy wall facing us will be a countertop someday.

Week 11 - Our design SNAFU, the guest closet. It makes me laugh when I see it.

Week 11 - The super secret suitcase storage in the back of the guest closet SNAFU.

Week 11 - The Subs are still working hard to fill in the road where the sewer went in.

Week 11 - The cinder block for outside was delivered! Next week they should start bricking the exterior.

Breathing Easier

The Heavens opened up.

I left the last post in a twist because we'd received an invoice which I found to be incorrect (i.e. way too much $$$$) and I was preparing to hold the awkward argument about what was specified during design. That meeting happened Friday afternoon, and I shouldn't have been anxious, because the Builder and GC, with out any sort of argument or rebuttal from us, are covering the costs themselves. They agreed that they missed the extra expense of these items in their original estimate, and therefore it came out of their budget. Even in a case where there was a discrepancy of information from our side, for sake of keeping everyone happy, they took the cost themselves. I was happy with the outcome of the meeting, and so far I have been happy with our Builder's communication and sense of fairness.

I do have to say that as the owner and client, it is incredibly important to say on top of the details and manage the process to a certain degree. We hired the Builder as the expert and we trust him to educate us, but as with any project, if you want it to go your way, you have to keep up in real time and hold your "finger on the pulse." We are at the site every day, at least once a day, and are on an intimate level with the email and cell phones of the GC and Superintendent. When an electric socket needs to be moved 6 inches to the right, and it doesn't get moved in the indicated time frame, you will bet we're on the horn making sure it is still in the plan and not overlooked. The Super and GC have been very patient, reactive and pleasant with us (as I would expect and hope), and that has contributed to the overall positive experience so far.

During this process, I tend to react strongly when I see something that doesn't correspond with my expectation. I feel like at any moment, I am waiting to become the stereotype. When you start this kind of process, the most common stories are those of terrible experiences, owner's taken to the cleaners, corrupt contractors, you name it. We have no interest in becoming the next cautionary tale.

Pipelines, Poo Water and Pantry Drawers

The back and forth on the state of our sanitary line tie-in has been nail-biting for us.

The City, as expected, was no help and "offered maybe, no promises" to grant us access to the line our neighbor hooked up. Gee thanks City, that's great except it still means we have to open saw-cut the road for a good 60 feet which is mucho dineros. That's not even the shortest route for us, so I'm not sure how they felt this was a concession. A proper concession would be, hey, install the pipe you supposedly provided (but didn't) and let us tie into that or compensate us in some way (we pay taxes to have sewer hookups!) so we can hook into one of the surrounding lines. No dice.

The great news is that the Builder found a contractor who did our water line tie in today, and they are going to be able to saw cut the street going in the other direction (the shorter distance) in front of the empty lot within their utility budget. OUR OWN PERSONAL FINANCIAL CRISIS AVERTED. Hopefully. All that nail-biting was for naught, and I now have nubbin fingers.

I've never been so happy to be given a pipeline - it's better than birthdays.

Lesson Number X: Thoroughly check your utility tie-ins during design, so that you don't end up with an unexpected bill for insane procedures.

Lesson Number XX: Outline as many details as humanly possible in the design phase and keep a paper-trail, and I mean every last little shelf, toilet paper holder, and drawer pull. Even if you think it's obvious, write it down, because it is not inherently obvious to anyone else. Else you will end up with more unexpected change orders that ruin a good buzz. We are having discussions that lead to us tracing emails in the tangle of information that was exchanged during design, pointing saying "we asked for this! we talked about this!" and having the awkward "what was discussed exactly" conversations with the Builder and the GC (in regards to our pantry design actually). Change orders are for things that change AFTER the contract, specs and design were signed. Everything we discussed and documented, unless excluded specifically, is included in the contract price. I'm sorry if you didn't price it, that is something I can't really control. I'm not trying to screw you, I'm trying to protect myself, and I don't have an itemized open book estimate so I have no frame of reference. Otherwise, if it's impossible to specify every item prior, you agree on an appropriate contingency for those known items and build it into the contract price - it's called Funded Liabilities. No one is happy to get slapped with a big bill after the fact, not being able to roll it into the mortgage, and facing the music with hard cash. We'll see how this goes...

Maybe Compost or Septic.

Last week, I had planned to write about fun pretty things, like some of my design ideas, until, well, yuck happened.

Yuck is a gross under-statement.

Remember when I briefly mentioned issues with a sanitary sewer line that was troubling the Builder? They thought at the time it was a lot deeper than they originally expected. The City was sent out to clean it because the lines were thought to be so deep and covered in dirt, that they couldn't be seen. It turns out, they needn't have worried about the line being backed up. It simply does not exist. Anywhere. No where.

To clarify, there is no place to put our poo water.

In the City-published GIMS maps below, the ones the Builder (and the entire public) relies upon for underground public utility information incorrectly represent a 6" sanitary sewer line running in the street in front of our house (see the thin red line in front of the red box - our lot). There is a manhole about 50' to the right of our lot, and one 50' to the left as well, but no line was ever put in between the two, connecting to any sewer system.

When we heard this, I pretty much lost my sh**. Which is ironic, considering the circumstances.

The City permitted us for a 6" line which does not even exist. After some research, it appears that the City paid a contractor to install this line a few years ago, but it was never put in. Great contractor. It would seem that this would be the City's problem. We pay taxes for public utilities for which we were not given full access. The City ordered a line and never verified it was actually installed. The City publishes information which is inaccurate in its portrayal of utility access.

We are trying to get ahold of someone at the City to help us, but there is a huge, looming chance that they'll shrug their shoulders apologetically (best case) and say "oops." And never do anything about it. Try suing the City. We'd have a valid case, but that would mean extensive delays in construction, no guarantees, and legal fees out the wazoo. I die inside a little when I think about the implications of going that route. We are 100% at the mercy of the City, and it's infuriating.

This week the Builder needs to figure out what is the closest and most cost effective option to connect to a nearby-ish line. I can't even comprehend the dollar signs which will be associated with this. This kind of scenario? This makes me feel like we're a stereotype - the new home builder couple stereotype, learning the hard lessons the hard way.

And I fear our old friend "unforeseeable circumstances." If that isn't the biggest catch-all phrase in a contract that's eating my lunch. We will have to discuss how this works with the Builder, but I'm pretty sure this exact scenario is uncharted territory for them as well. If I were a betting woman, my money would be on our money making an exit from our bank account rather soon. I will keep you up to date, as soon as I'm done crying softly in the corner.

To end on a positive note, in spite of the drama unfolding in sewer-land, work on the house itself has been moving forward regardless as far as it can. All plumbing, electric, natural gas work is complete, all the windows are in place, the balcony railings have been put in place, and the siding is totally complete. Once inspections are done, we will be ready to start closing up the walls with insulation and sheet rock, but not before the sanitary line hook-up is complete (the walls have to be open in order to test the line once it is connected). July 1st completion looks like it's slipping away...

Week 8 - The good news is all the windows are in, and the balcony is nicely railed.

Keep Calm and Carry On!

Additions

The solution to the problem with the floating cinder block has been solved by bringing down the siding farther to meet the bottom of the balcony header. Voila, no floating cinder block, but we do now have to drop the dining room window on the west side so it's not right up against the siding/cinder block seam. Fortunately, that is an easy fix at this stage in the game.

Did you notice the addition of fencing around the perimeter of the site? That is new as well due to a run in with a homeless man who may or may not have scared the living daylights out of me when I was checking out this place myself this weekend. This is the joy of building in a high density population area. It's not that I mind if he hangs out there to rest at night or get some shelter really (although I'm probably not supposed to say that), I'm just not keen on the idea of other activity happening. If you could be so kind, please do not deal crack or relieve yourself in my future home (say hello to the convenient port-o-potty). Much appreciated.

(That hasn't happened to my knowledge. Yet.)

Whoops and Uh-Oh.

Week 5 - Skin attached, now we have rooms!

Week 5 - I double-dog-dare you to walk on that scaffolding.

As of last week, all the sheets were place on the exterior, so we are one step closer to being dried in. The next step is doing the Tyvek (vapor barrier) and then siding, and in our case, concrete block. Don't forget the roofing! And given this step in the process, it seems appropriate to go over a few of the "Doh!" moments we are having right about now, with the Builder.

Uh-Oh Numero Uno: Guest Closet Door

When we designed the first floor, we were conscious of minimizing the first floor footprint. That seems counter-intuitive given it is the bottom of the structure, but given that it would be the least used space (guest quarters), we didn't want to use a lot of square footage [read: $$$] in the area. In order to be efficient, we decided to use the space under the stairs for dual purpose, as it would normally be wasted space. From the garage side, we had built in shelving added under the stairs in the wall for extra garage storage. From the guest room side, we decided to use the space as the closet on the high end, and a storage for luggage on the low end, under the mid-way stair landing.

Needless to say, we anticipated the "high end" would indeed be much higher and less "cut" by the slant of the stairs. [Note: It is REALLY DIFFICULT to picture stairs in 3D from a 2D rendering.] Originally in the plans, there was supposed to be a pocket door to close off the closet. Given the high angle slant, that isn't possible, so we've had to think of other options for doors there. Right now, the barn door is winning, although it is a little pricier for the hardware than I would have liked. (Let's all open our wallets together now, shall we?)

Uh-Oh Numero Dos: The Wrong Siding Arrives

Because we are going with a modern/contemporary design (can someone tell me the difference between the two terms?), we ordered smooth concrete siding in alternating 10 and 6 inch boards. However, what arrived on the site today was an wood-texture plank that is very common in traditional homes. Way to catch that before it went up today Andrew! Boo that now we have to wait for the correct siding to arrive.

The siding will go on the 3rd floor of the house, and cinder block will be the bottom 2 floors of the house. That makes the walls on the bottom 2 floors of our house a foot thick - practically bomb shelter. Let's just hope we never have to use it as such. Ahem. This brings us to...

Uh-Oh Numero Tres: Does Cinder Block Float on Air?

Here we are looking at what will eventually be our balcony. We've recently had disagreements over what the inside of the balcony is supposed to be covered in materially - cinder block (what we understood) or siding (what the GC understood). Although it is very difficult to catch every little thing during design, there were several discussion about this topic during design because the weight of the cinder block meant using steel beams [read: $$$] in the garage ceiling. It was our understanding, in a conversation with the Builder, that is was going to be cinder block, but somewhere along the way to the GC, that never was clarified or communicated, by ourselves or the Builder. So as of now, the balcony is built and supported for siding, not cinder block.

We can get over that; however, we believe there should be some give and take. It also became apparent on Friday that we did not have in mind the same material make-up of the fireplace and mantle area. We intended for cinder block (the same as the exterior) from the floor to the mantle, while the GC understood it as only around the trim of the fireplace. It doesn't appear that either side clarified during design, and this is another lesson in the importance of nailing down the details as precisely as you can early on in the project. We're hoping for leniency on the fireplace material in exchange the siding on the balcony.

If you look at the photo above, there is a 6 inch lip above the header over the balcony. The lip is the bottom of the 3rd floor, and is hanging over in order to have the siding on the 3rd floor flush with the thick cinder block on the 2nd floor. The lip is an indication that the header over the balcony is to be covered in cinder block, however, we're not sure how that can be achieved physically speaking. The cinder block would have to "float" unsupported over the open balcony, unless steel plates are put in to support it. Thus far, we have heard nothing of steel plates. If siding is put in instead (not good) an awkward transition occurs between the 2nd and 3rd floor, as well as the west and east halves of the house. My anal-retentive detail-oriented side starts to twitch when I think about this too long.

Take That and Rewind it Back

Remember when I said that all the extra work that needed to be done to our site to get the debris out was the responsibility of the builder? That was a funny idea wasn't it.

Welcome to our first financially painful lesson. Let's hope this is a short list.

Based on the facts that we hired a geotechnical company to come in an do soil borings, in addition to the fact that the GC never mentioned anything to us about additional funds during the grand-mack-daddy dig, I very naively assumed we were not liable.

I read a lot of contracts in my line of work, so you would think my mind would have jumped here when this situation arose. Lesson number whatever: READ AND UNDERSTAND your contract. Turns out a burned down house five feet below the surface counts as what legalese likes to call "unforeseeable circumstances."

At Friday's meeting, the Builder showed up to deliver the bad news, an apology for not discussing the situation sooner, and the fat invoice for the additional equipment and soil that was necessary. We listened in silence, processing. It's not what we wanted to hear, and I know it's not the Builder's fault. There is inherent uncertainty in digging up a lot which hasn't been inhabited in decades. Before we cough up the cash, we have to think this through. Do we point fingers?

Who's fault is it anyways?

Yes, the soil borings were done RIGHT AROUND the location of the debris. Oops. That is really just unlucky coincidence.

Who could have known? The former lot owner? Is it their fault for not disclosing the history of the site? Perhaps. However, we would have to prove that the owner knew and intentionally did not disclose what lay beneath. Which means more delay, more money to lawyers (unless we win), and more frustration.

If it was an amount that would break the process, we would consider the latter scenario in order to continue. The truth is, the invoice is enough to hurt, to make us put off or rethink if we will feasibly be able to buy some of the "wants" we had planned on, but it isn't enough to break the process. And the thought of delaying the process in order to go down that rabbit hole doesn't sound very appealing.

We are all in agreement that the Builder should have let us know about this when we were all standing around, looking at the enormous pit of debris, instead of after the foundation was poured. When it comes to money, I want to be upfront, clear and documented - in matters of business especially. But in reality, it wouldn't have made a difference, removing the unusable material had to be done regardless.

So we have our first major sting of the construction process. The Builder is getting his own as well. Because they didn't check the sanitary sewer prior to contract signing, they are finding out that it is much deeper than they anticipated. They will have to saw-cut the street in order to tie in, instead of just directional drilling to the line. That's several thousand dollars on the Builder's tab. Looks like they're going to drain their contingency in the first couple weeks of construction. Good times all around.

We are hopeful that the "unforeseen" portion of construction is behind us, and that there won't be a freak tsunami or anything that takes out our neighborhood. The coming week should see the sewer being connected and the framing on the first floor starting. I will provide too much photographic evidence, I'm sure.

Week 3 - We have floor. Not to be confused with flooring.

Construction Progress, Days 2-3: A Delightful Box of Chocolates

It has been three total days of construction, and wouldn't you know it, we've hit a hiccup. on Day 2, the grading of the lot began. The bobcat's drove up and started moving dirt to level out the lot for a house pad (i.e. concrete foundation).

Grading a lot is sort of like opening a gift from Forrest Gump - you never know what you're going to get. In our case, after a little scraping, it became fairly obvious that some kind of dwelling once stood here, because all kinds of strange things popped up. This lot has been vacant for decades, but we'd heard it was once a record store way back when. I have no idea how you can actually check on that. At a quick glance, we could see a decomposed mattress and dozens of wood boards, splintered and burned. The GC called out the engineer to come check it out, because you don't want to pour the foundation for a three story home on questionable soil. Decaying building contents qualifies under the category of questionable.

So Day 3 rolls around and the GC gives Andrew a call to let him know that there is going to be more moving of dirt than they thought, and about the foundation engineer coming to check it out. He knows we'll be snooping around at some point during the day - our offices are about 1.5 minutes from the construction site, so surprise visits are inevitable.

Before the Grand Dig, the plan was that a large amount of dirt was going to have to be hauled away. Turns out, we have the opposite problem. We're having to remove all the charred debris and replace it with soil which has stability. Andrew runs by during lunch, and there is a 6-8 foot deep hole in the ground where our house should be. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they don't find any decaying body parts, because I'm not sure how we would handle that. Can a house be haunted by ground ghosts? Whatever building was once there was obviously burned down. Now the contractor is attempting to separate the "good soil" from the rotting debris in an attempt to limit the amount of soil which needs to be brought in from elsewhere.

The one good thing is that this is not an extra cost to us. Before we finalized the plans, the Builder brought in a geotechnical company to do soil borings and test the soils' stability. It is therefore the Builder's responsibility to plan (i.e. pad their estimate) for such possibility as much as is reasonably possible.

But wait! There is more fun! In addition to the rotting wood/mattresses/laundry baskets, we have come across decayed galvanized pipe. Which, my first reaction was naturally "Cool, maybe we can make something out of it!" But no. Silly Marysia. It is full of water. Let's not ask what type of water. As the soil and debris is being removed, the pipe is releasing the water and we have a nice little hot tub developing right in the middle of our yard. Which is a great idea and all, but I was hoping the hot tub would be more warm and bubbly and ... clean. So maybe for extra fun, we'll have to pump the site of all this charming sludge. Good times.

Playing the odds, I think it is necessary to do a prediction by vote. According to the Builder, he quoted 20-23 weeks total for construction. I am the ever realist pessimist, and think that is insanely impossible. Being conservative, if our Builder is amazing AND right, we would be done by July 22nd. If you feel so inclined, guess a date when construction will be completed and residency permitted in the comments. Closest without going over wins. Something. I have dibs on August 14th.

Awesome! NOW what??

We resume!

The next morning, Andrew wakes up to a new email from the seller, and the first line states:

"Congratulations, we have decided to take your last offer in the amount of $[truckloads of cash]!"

Woah, what? I thought we walked away and it was all over. Switch mental gears again, now we're really excited. Jumping up and down excited. And this is followed by the complete rush of "holy schmidt, now we really have to do this." Wait, are we really going to build a house? Is that even possible? WHAT ARE WE DOING?!?

We hadn't really done any research on what it take to build a home at this point. During the period before closing on the lot, we spent time meeting different architects, some we found online, others were recommended by neighbors or friends. To some one who would consider designing their own home, I would highly recommend to interview many architects. because there is a wide range of approaches, price ranges, styles and comfort levels. We heard everything from, "bare bones, no real flooring, it is impossible to do this project for less than $175 per square foot" (!!!) to "what's your budget? Yeah sure we can do that."

Even though budget was really important to this project, the style of the architect and how well you connect with them is key to sanity. The truth is, you're choosing a relationship, and it is one you will pay a dear amount for, so you better like that boyfriend/girlfriend with a pencil. Looking for an architect was a roller coaster ride for us; some days we thought there was no way to make this work, others left us hopeful. Even after we closed on the lot, we continued to look, and eventually after several months we came to a few realizations about what we were looking for.

Andrew and I had a good idea of what we wanted the design of our home to look like. In reality, our lot is pretty tiny, space is a major constraint, so there weren't a whole lot of directions to go but up. We drew up countless layouts in Microsoft Visio, and it's humorous now to think where we started, and where we ended up in design. The first house was a mansion, straight out of one of the countless home design magazines that took over our kitchen table for several months.

We were fairly confident that we knew what we wanted and we could draw it ourselves, we just needed someone with experience to guide us through the logistical details: how much space is needed for HVAC, where is the best location for conduit, how practical are tankless water heaters, etc. So what was the point in paying an architect to draw up plans that we had 95% already drawn up ourselves? When we designed our home, we didn't reinvent the wheel, and weren't looking for any front-page accolades in Architecture Digest. We wanted a home that fit our style, our family, how we live, and how we wanted to grow.

It's a personal decision for everyone, but we decided against an expensive architect, and went with a small builder (under 50 homes a year) who has a long list of excellent references, and has an in-shop architect. That is probably not a popular choice for architects, but given the work we had done already on our own, we wanted to make the most of our resources [read: cash] and paying a $15 - $45K fee to have someone re-draw what we had drawn, or worse, scoff at our design from an artistic standpoint, did not sound appealing. Going through the design process with the in-house architect was easy, not intimidating and enlightening in a lot of ways, and at this point, I can say I am happy we took this route.

Of course, I say this before we have seen any physical manifestation of our home, so here's to hoping we are still happy with the design when we see it live...

How did we get in this mess?

About one year ago, I took a nap. I know, that is pretty amazing stuff when you have an 8 month old. Naps are pure gold dipped in chocolate and Twizzlers. Andrew offered to take The Wee One for a walk, so I could get some rest. I was in grad school at the time, and the schedule of balancing academia and home life was taking it's toll.

I should back up and explain that for about a year previous to said glorious nap, Andrew and I were looking for homes we could buy once I finished school and rejoined the employed. It was a demoralizing effort. We were looking for something perfect within the following simple criteria:

1) inside the loop
2) single-standing home
3) 4 bedrooms

It didn't seem like that should be hard to find. I mean, wasn't everyone touting the buyers' market of the weakened economy? Fat chance. Criteria #3 was the sticking point really. Finding a 4-bedroom that wasn't considered a tear-down, inside the loop for under half a million dollars was unheard of. Maybe I should have brought up budget earlier. That was the omnipotent criteria, trumping all criteria's criteria. I hoped patience would become my virtue, that something amazing would fall into our laps and precisely the right moment and price point but I was slowly losing hope. We were going to have to relinquish the easy life of inner-looping, idiot-yuppies, where anything farther than 610 requires GPS and road-trip supplies. Andrew was the most crushed. His need to be within walking distance of bars we rarely inhabit is deep-seeded.

Back to the nap.

All too soon, my bliss was interrupted by Andrew attempting to wake me up.

Andrew: "Hey Hun," [sweetly while I scowled at him] "what if we build a house instead of buy one?"
Marysia: "Where, in Katy? We could never afford that here." [pulling the pillow over my head]
Andrew: "No, here. I called about a lot that went up for sale in the neighborhood, and it's not too bad. In fact it's affordable."

That is where the fun began. Andrew's innocent phone call prompted by a "for sale by owner" sign. He proceeded to spout off hypothetical fairy numbers to me while I tried to figure out if he was joking or delirious. I pretty much left that ball in his court. If we could get the lot for something reasonable, I figured worst case, it would be an investment that we could sell if nothing materialized in terms of a house. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt too much in the wallet.

So with in the week, Andrew did some intense research of "comps." Lesson Numero Uno: "Comps" are slang for "comparables," and it is how property is priced for market value. Basically, he had his uncle pull all the properties which had been sold in the area within the past 3 years (typically it's 6 months, but not a whole is for sale in our area so we used longer time frames), and we tried to put together an "apples to apples" comparison of said lot and those lots which had been sold recently. For us, the big comparison was based on neighborhood and square footage. Ahh, the spread sheets began...

The First Offer
We put together an offer which we thought more closely reflected the market value according to the comps, and then dropped it a bit from there, figuring that there was going to be negotiation and we needed wiggle room. Andrew had been in discussions with the seller for about a week, and they were playing a bit of a game in terms of tugging at the heart-strings a bit. There was a "woh is me, we are selling our family property" going on. I should say that this family owns a lot of property in the area, none of it was for sale, and frankly, this was peanuts for them.

We waited excitedly for a response, thinking they would budge from listed price a bit, but we were wrong. They came back with the listing price, not dropping a cent, and quoting us their comps. The comps they pulled were for neighborhoods not even close to us in terms of vicinity. We weren't even sure how they could be legitimately be called comps, as some of the said "lots," actually had improvements/partial homes on them. The lot we were looking at had none of the above.

The Second Offer
Ok, fine. I was already starting to sketch pictures in my case books of room layouts and patio furniture. We wanted that lot. So we submitted another offer, based on our comps, but without dropping it, and even padding the value a bit for contingency. We talked to the neighbors who within the last few years had built like we were attempting. They had gotten their lots for considerably less. We felt our offer was fair, had substantial back-up evidence for it, and damn it, we weren't going to be taken on this. Anxiety ridden, we turned in the offer, knowing that we weren't going to budge any further from that number. If it was meant to be, it would happen. Otherwise, we'd never feel good about the purchase, and that is a terrible way to start.

The next day we got our response. Counter offer of... you guessed it, the listing price. They didn't budge at all. Nada. I was almost relieved. We figured it wasn't meant to be, and this was the sign. That evening, Andrew and I wished them luck and pulled out of the negotiation. According to the seller, there were other potential buyers showing interest. We were prepared to let them have it. Andrew and I were content with the decision, even if there was a cloud of disappointment. We erased the Miami-bungalow style patio from our dreams, and figured it was over until...

Next Time.