I basically felt guilty the whole time reading it because I bought a couldn't buy a real educational book, I got one wrapped up a chic-lit. but it was easy to get through (I don't read as much as I should, I've gotten bad at it) and the chapters were sized perfectly for my 30 minute lunch breaks at work. I now know what escrow is, and why you shouldn't use a seller's real estate agent to make offers, and how to refuse to back down when a so-called expert insists you don't know anything.
Kinda hate the idea that women need our own woman-specific real estate books, too, like our methods are special? they talk a lot about fear and detachment and getting people to listen to you and finding that "I can do this" attitude deep inside you... I wonder if all books about home buying tackle that one? I mean, I can't help but think that men have some fears when they buy their first houses. In general I've always felt like men are better at jumping into things they only sorta pretend to know everything about... I used to think it was a confidence thing but more and more I think they just don't notice little details that women see, so there's not as much to be afraid of.
anyway the book made me feel better about buying a house but didn't convince me it was right for me just yet. First, I've always been afraid to buy because I work in an aircraft city, and I'm in the aircraft industry. If I tank, this city tanks with me and I won't be able to get out if I own a house. I'm also afraid i'll be stuck with working on it all the time.
and here's the big reason: I really feel like having my own space anymore is a really vain idea. people are encouraging to move out of where I'm at now... too many roommates, too small a bedroom. As soon as I moved in, all my cool stuff... the purple sofa I love so much, art I've gotten here and there... was relagated to the basement or my room. The main living spaces are pre-owned. I don't feel like it's home, I'm paying for a sleeping room, and a small one at that. I wasn't even allowed to put my christmas decorations on the tree upstairs when we decorated for the holidays. There's a float trip next week, and i'm using marc's freezer to get stuff ready for it because my roommate (the homeowner, fridge owner, decorator) fills the freezer with her stuff. she's nice to live with and the place is clean, and her boyfriend is fun to live with even though I strongly resent him for getting about the same deal I've got (living in this house) for a fraction of the cost (he chips in for utilities... that's it, no rent. who else in the world gets to do that? I've considered leaving just for spite.)
but I'm never here! I'm in coffee shops, I'm bowling, shopping, going out, visiting friends, and it was like that when I had my apartment, too... I want to be of *this city*, not of a little house in the suburbs, you know? Why do I need anything more than a place to sleep?
it's like refusing to name the cat... if I don't own anything, nothing owns me, that's how I like it.