Wallet Woes

I’m constantly at odds with my wallet. I love going out with friends and discovering fun places to visit in the city: flea markets, restaurants, museums. But I also find a distinct pleasure in looking at my bank account at the end of the week and seeing that I’ve spent less than $50 on stuff. In the summer, it is all too easy to go outside and frolic in the sun… to go to a rooftop bar for happy hour and while away hours over margaritas and cheese fries.

Winter is a different story: the cold makes me rush home after work to curl up on the couch for an evening of Netflix and whatever Trader Joe’s meal I’ve slapped together for my husband and I. So when I go out and spend $60+ on an unplanned day of tomfoolery, I usually end up pontificating on the day’s purchases, kicking myself for spending money on things I could’ve saved on… “Why did I get a third vodka tonic? I shouldn’tve ordered the soft pretzel sticks; I knew we were going to get ramen later.” Etcetera, etcetera.

I know that this internal dialogue doesn’t solve anything; it’s really just a thing I do when I spend money that I didn’t expect to spend. I kinda wish I could turn that voice off; after all, the memories I make during these outings are priceless, and it’s not as if I’m jeopardizing my monthly student loan payment, or any other necessary expenses. It’s just that, a part of my brain sees these fun, random expenditures as a completely unnecessary money suck, a threat to my personal goal of saving beaucoup bucks for larger future plans.

There is a solution to this, but I’ve pushed it to the side because it requires planning: I need to start a “fun fund” that I dedicate to social outings; a budgeted amount that I set aside each paycheck so that I don’t feel guilty about spending. It needs to be cash. That way, I’m not handing my card over throughout the day an unlimited number of times. It’ll be a challenge, but it’s a challenge I’m willing to take on to instill good spending habits.

Holy crap, we have a mortgage

Has it really been 3.5 months since I’ve written here?! Sheesh. Last time I posted, I was bitching about being under contract for a condo. I am happy to report that we. has. condo.

Our persistence paid off and we are officially homeowners! I feel so adulty nshit. Paying the mortgage for the first time a week or so ago definitely hurt, but the pros outweigh the cons. We have a lot more space, a dishwasher, and instead of crossing a courtyard and descending into a creepy-ass, water bug infested basement to do our laundry, we just go down one floor. It’s lit! (I know that phrase is overused, but I don’t care.)

This place was built in the 1920’s, so there are lots of quirks, but we love it here. The boiler in our building was recently replaced and there were a couple days without heat, buuuut those repair costs come out of our HOA fees so I’m not super worried. Part of the reason we wanted to get a condo is because we didn’t want to do yard work, or have to pay for every single little thing that needs fixing. The windows here are old, (our unit has 20 of them: GASP!) but apparently the coop board is considering financing the cost of replacing them in all the buildings so that’s a huge relief. I’d rather pay for a fraction of the cost than the whole enchilada.

Other quirks include figuring out how to dispose of bulk trash sans car (read, Wayfair furniture that was damaged during shipping) and having to wear earplugs to bed some nights because radiators can get pretty fucking loud when the pipes are old.

All things considered, we’re thrilled to be here. We wanted to stay in the city really really REALLY bad, which can be hard with the real estate prices in DC. I’m glad we stuck to our guns. This old place has beaucoup potential. We’re enjoying polishing our little gem.

“Is there a support group for this yet?”

That is the question I posed on Twitter today.

 

Attempting to purchase a Fannie Mae HomePath property has been one of the most stressful experiences of my existence.

Let me start off by saying that I didn’t know that the condo was a foreclosure at first. My realtor assured me that all foreclosures are not created equal, and that this property would be a good investment. And so my husband and I proceeded to make an offer, which was promptly counter offered, so we accepted, and then waited for the pieces to fall into place. And waited. And waited. And WAITED…

Come to find out, the property had title issues that were not taken care of when it was first acquired by FNMA. And so here we are, two months later, still waiting for people to send documents to the underwriter, pay the condo fees that were owed by the previous owner, and generally get shit together so that we can actually buy the place. I have cried, gotten my hopes up, yelled, prayed, given up, and vented several times over the past few weeks while tentatively decluttering and packing up our current apartment, bit by bit, in the hopes that things will work out. We have rescheduled the delivery of our bed and couch, cancelled our address change, and given our landlord mixed messages a few times as well. All this to say that, be careful when you go house hunting, and take extra precautions to make sure you have a backup plan. We are blessed enough to live in a place where we only need to give our landlord 30 days notice, and my job is quite flexible when it comes to accepting PTO requests. Some don’t have it this easy. I’ve heard stories of people staying in hotels for months, only to end up walking away empty-handed. Tread. Carefully. And if at all possible, steer clear of Fannie Mae. She’s fickle as fuck.

Treat yoself.

Look, I know self-care is important. I’m not getting any younger, and though I’m not at the age where I’m looking to rejuvenate myself with this or that product, I’m definitely more aware of the fact that doing a few simple things daily – drinking water, getting 7ish hours of sleep, flossing – will pay off on the long run. But when it comes to things that take a biiit more effort, I can get a little lazy. For instance, I only get my eyebrows waxed when I’m at the nail salon. And I only go to the nail salon a few times a year, like right before a big event or a trip. I’d love to get a pedicure more often than the 2 times I go in the summer (don’t judge me) but by the time I’ve factored in the Metro fare back and forth, the pedi money, and the tip, my bank account is already frowning. I can be a bit cheap; it’s true. But get me in a mall during Black Friday, and all that goes out the window. *sigh…* It’s cool though, I’m slowly getting into the habit of allowing myself to spend money on things that aren’t as tangible as clothes. Because you can do your pedicure at home, but it NEVER looks as good as when your favorite nail lady does em. #facts

Post Uno

It seems a little weird that I’m starting this blog at the end of the year. It may be the end of 2017, but I feel like I’m at a point where a lot of things are just beginning for me. For starters, I turned 30 a few months ago. Big milestone, right? Well, yes and no. At 30, I definitely feel like I can put a firm wedge between myself and millennials who are in the age range of 20-25. I’m married, have a “REAL” job with benefits, transfer money into my savings account on each payday, rarely stay out past midnight, and am researching the ins and out of home ownership. I’m fucking adulting. Big time.

Even with all these big girl responsibilities, sometimes I really can’t relate to some of my friends who are in the same age bracket. This blog will serve as a sounding board for all those in-betweeny feelings, celebrations, and frustrations.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑