House Closing

Well, I did it. As of 4pm yesterday afternoon, I became a real, live, actual HOMEOWNER. I own a house. I’m not a renter, I’m an owner.

This is surreal.

So yes, I closed on my house yesterday. It was actually really easy – I left work a little early to go to the title company, where I arrived exactly five minutes before the closing appointment (3:30). The title place was located in this tucked away business complex that I had never noticed before, even though it was on a road I had driven and walked down a million times growing up. I’d had a knot in my gut most of the day, but it was a small knot, and at least 80% excitement and only 20% fear. That ratio tipped a little closer to 50:50 as I walked in the door of the title company. I had never been to a title company before – what should I even expect?

When I entered the door, a long hallway with doors on either side stretched out in front of me. A man – probably in his early 30s – was leaving the hallway and heading toward what appeared to be a bathroom. I smiled automatically at him, and he smiled back. He didn’t look like he worked there; he must have been here for a closing. My closing? To my left was a small waiting room. Where the heck do I go? Turning to the right, I saw the receptionist’s desk, hidden by the foyer. A smiling lady noticed me before I could say anything, and asked if I was here for the Sunset house. It took me a minute to respond. House? I don’t own a house. Oh, wait, yes I do. Or I will. Whoa. “Yes,” I said, more calmly than I felt.

“The first room on your right – the Lake Room.” Dudeeee they name their rooms like a fancy motel or conference center or something.

“Thank you,” I said. I turned into the Lake Room to see a large table dominating the small space. A blonde woman who appeared to be extremely pregnant was seated one side of the table, with the selling agent – who I had met at the open house – seated at the far end, and a middle-aged woman in dress clothes at the near end. “Where should I sit?” I asked, suddenly cognizant of how young I must look with my ragged backpack strung over one shoulder and my admittedly younger-than-my-age-looking features.

“Right over there,” the woman in dress clothes said, pointing to the opposite side of the table from the pregnant woman.

“Nice to see you again,” the selling agent said, standing to shake my hand.

“You too.” I awkwardly sat down, then realized I still had my bulky coat on and the room was rather warm. I stood up again to take my coat off and almost tripped over my backpack, like a total idiot. Thankfully, I recovered quickly and sat down again, hopefully with some degree of poise.

“Will your agent be joining us?” the middle-aged woman asked. She must be from the title company.

“…I think so. Yes.” I hadn’t confirmed with my realtor, but I was pretty sure he’d show up. I noticed the selling agent pouring himself coffee from a karafe in the center of the table and I perked up suddenly. “That’s coffee?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh, sorry, I should’ve offered you some. Cream and sugar?”

“No thanks, I like it black. And no worries, haha. Caffeine would be good though.” I poured myself a cup and held it tightly, instantly calmer.

Just then, the man I had seen going to the bathroom came into the room. He grinned at me. “So you’re the buyer? I’m Bill.” He extended his hand. I shook it, and introduced myself. His wife – the pregnant lady – introduced herself as well, and suddenly everything felt less nerve-wracking.

The title agent collected the drivers licenses of myself and the sellers and briskly started rifling through a thick stack of papers. “There’s a request for 60 days occupancy – do you know when you will be moving out?” she asked the sellers.

“No,” Bill answered. “Not yet. We haven’t closed on our other house yet.”

“Where are you guys moving?” I asked curiously as the title lady started writing furiously.

“We’re moving out to the South Lyon. We bought a big farmhouse – 30,000 square feet – on a few acres.”

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome!” I said. Oh my God, can I BE these people?

“Yeah,” the wife – Anne – answered. “But we’re a little sad to leave. We had a lot of really good memories in our house, but we needed the extra space. Once you have kids…”

“Besides,” Bill added, “we’re from that area originally. This was our first house; we couldn’t afford out there. And it’s been a great house. We love the neighbor behind us!”

I laughed – the joke was that the house backs up to a school park, so there was no neighbor behind them. “I know! That’s fantastic! I was very excited when I saw that.”

“That’s what sold you, huh?”

“Yeah, kind of.” I grinned.

“Yeah, it’s hard to find that in Livonia.”

“It really is!”

“Well, all the neighbors are fantastic,” Anne broke in. “Two of them are cops.”

“Oh, cool!” I exclaimed. I like cops.

Bill grinned. “Yeah, and you know the side of the house with the privacy fence? The previous owners were really annoying, but the people who live there now are great – they’re really quiet. They do have a dog, but they’re super nice. And then both people next to you on the open side of the yard are cops. The first house, Ron and Sarah, he’s a Belleville cop and they have a daughter – 7 months old. Then then next to him, is David; he’s a Canton cop. And the people across the street are great too.”

“Everyone’s great,” Anne added. “We’re going to miss them.”

“Yeah, we will,” Bill said. “The cops moved in at the same time we did and we’re all similar age – they’re in their early 30s – so we hung out together and stuff. They’re wonderful people, plus they add some extra safety to the neighborhood. Good mechanics too, if you ever need a jump or anything like that, they’d be happy to help you out.”

As all of this conversation was going on, my realtor had arrived and the title lady was passing around papers for us to sign. They had already sent out the documents we’d be signing via email, so I had already read through everything, making the signing process merely a formality.

Some more chitchat was exchanged, as the papers flew. The title lady explained how occupancy rent would be determined, water and taxes would be pro-rated, and a certain portion of the money would held in escrow. The sellers talked a little bit about their four-year-old daughter, and I learned that my realtor has five daughters between the ages of 6-15.

Suddenly, maybe fifteen minutes later, we were done. The title lady went to make copies of everything, gave us back our driver’s licenses, and told us that we needed to go to city hall to file our tax papers with the assessor’s office. Then she handed the seller’s a check for $150,000.

“Whoa,” Bill said. “This is a lot of money.”

“Well, I guess we’re officially homeless,” Anne said disbelievingly.

The selling agent laughed. “That’s the difference between men and women right there – the guy thinks about what he can do with the money and the woman thinks about how she’s losing her home!” Everyone laughed. Suddenly, we were done. I grabbed my papers, a nice congratulations packet from my realtor – which contained a notepad, magnet, journal, pen, and stack of new address labels – and walked out to my car.

In a state of disbelief, I drove to City Hall and walked in. Once again, I was faced with not knowing where the heck to go, but some worker pointed me in the direction of the assessor’s office, and within minutes my papers were stamped and I was officially responsible for a piece of property.

I ran into Bill and Anne again on my way out of City Hall, and laughed at having beat them there. Outside of the title company and the watchful eyes of professionals, we chatted a bit more. Bill offered to leave some of the rugs in the basement if I wanted them, and I gave him my cell phone number and said that if there was anything they wanted to a) leave or b) sell, to text me and I’d let them know if I wanted it. They both said how glad they were that a young person was getting it, and said that they hoped the house would be a great of a home to me as it was to them. I agreed that it seemed like a great starter home, and explained that the plan was to live there for 5-10 years until I had some kids – kind of them like they did.

Then I waved goodbye, thanked them for everything, and got in my car. I called my mom and my boyfriend to tell them that everything went okay, and then it was over, only 45 minutes after I had shown up at the title company. I was a homeowner.

In the evening, after I had worked out and eaten dinner, I packed my first box. The work has begun – and I can’t WAIT to move in!

My only tips from this experience?

1) Don't be afraid to ask the sellers questions - they should be happy to tell you all about the house and neighborhood, and the realtors can explain all the money things.

2) Read all your papers ahead of time - the actually signing process goes super fast.

3) Don't be nervous - it's not bad at all!

Quick note: My closing would have been 20-30 minutes longer if I had used a mortgage company instead of a private loan. You're supposed to allow about an hour.