Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Wednesday, March 04, 2015

The Realtor Dog says "Roof! Roof! Roof!"

"I'm Livin' In A Box!  I'm Livin' In A Cardboard Box!"

Still in the house hunt...

It occupies pretty much all my free time, which is why I haven't posted in weeks.

Had an offer ready on a nice place in the same zip code I'm in now, but got snaffled out of it by some a-hole with a pocket full of ready cash.

I feel a bit like Oliver Twist, going back to the mortgage lending folks with a "Please, Sir?  Can I have some more??"  just to stay competitive.

Cold hard figures don't budge, though.  With only my income footing the note, the utilities, insurance, etc., I just can't afford to pay more than XX% of my paycheck on housing.

And that means, I'm stuck in a certain housing bracket.  Tiny fixer-uppers.  Condos in skeevy areas.
Ramshackle farmhouses 50 miles outside the city limits...

The mortgage company will turn a blind eye to effed-up sheetrock and paint, but God forbid there's anything wrong with the roof or foundation!

Speaking of fixer-uppers, what is it with roofs?  Damn things are as fragile as tissue paper, apparently.  Still, what do I know from a roof inspection?  "Yup, there's one up there, all right!"

I don't get the appeal of plywood coated with tar paper & asphalt shingles.  Seems to me all you need is a 10 minute hailstorm, and you need a new roof.

Fuck that.  I'm all for some serious house armor.  Carbon fiber/ceramic laminate shingles over a Kevlar backing, with a polycarbonate deck.  Thing should snap together like a Pergo floor and last for 50 years.


On with the hunt...