Contemplating a Move
Do we bet on our ability to make the money? Or do we play it safe with our low debt-to-income house at a record low interest rate? A question of identity more than asset strategy.
By Juyun
“No good can come of this,” my husband grumbled unstrapping our younger daughter from her carseat.
I shaded my eyes from the penetrating afternoon sun that bored through my body warning me that pain was ahead. Turn back, it seemed to say. Your husband is right.
“But I’ve always wanted to see this house - please? We’re just going to look, besides.”
Swatting at a fly that had wandered in front of my nose, I let our other girl out of her carseat as my husband shook his head.
And the four of us crossed the street to the driveway of the house I’d always wanted to see, but never had.
It was on the market years ago.
A far cry from what we could afford.
“Why don’t you go, just look?” Mom had said.
I waved her off. “No, I don’t want to look at something we can’t buy.”
Instead, we ended up buying a house we could afford, and had the lucky, great good fortune to do it when interest rates were at an incredible low due to the pandemic.
We have since had the better fortune of holding onto this property whose value went up 20% almost immediately.
We stepped past the ornate wrought-iron covered glass door into, in realtor speak “airy, open concept, bright, stunning” etc etc foyer. It was at once familiar to me as my parents’ own floor plan. And unfamiliar.
And it was beautiful.
The girls screamed their messy little heads off, running down the hallways and observing that this house was short a swimming pool and short their own stuffed animals and that they would never want to live here.
“Ok,” I shrugged after we’d seen it all.
Not because I didn’t love it. But because I still thought we couldn’t afford it. A pipe dream.
“Did you guys sign in?” the listing agent asked.
“Yes, I put her information down,” he pointed at me. “Is that ok?”
Rolling my eyes I nodded.
As we began to leave, I noticed a sliding glass door on the side of the house and this was where things went sideways. I checked.
“Ohhh!” I exhaled.
The side yard was massive. And I mean massive space, massive privacy, massive sense of being alone. Something I’d been craving ever since we had our kids.
The realtor called the next week.
“Let’s just see,” I told my husband. “No harm in seeing what we can afford, right?”
Unfortunately, we did qualify.
And now we’re faced with the major dilemma of staying somewhere perfectly acceptable, with excellent interest rates, and low financial stress, or stretching ourselves like crazy and betting on our earning potential for the next several years until we can refinance to something more palatable.
“Sometimes I need the pressure,” I admitted to my husband one night in bed.
“I know. I wish you didn't.”
“Me too,” I sighed. “But we believe in ourselves right?”
He smiled, nodding before getting up to turn off the light.