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Dallas Real Estate: Living In A Tear-Down, Earmuffs

In our latest issue of D Home Magazine, which I know you will want to devour since it features this year’s collection of The Most Beautiful Homes In Dallas — Christine Allison writes a tender story about living in a home that “some” may call a tear down. “Some” are real estate experts, those nimble types who can calculate the cost of square footage in their heads times the return on every penny invested in a property.  These are the bean counters of real estate. They know exactly how much per linear foot it will cost to add a granite countertop and from which zip code (buy it in Plano, it will be about $2.53 less per foot) and how much that new granite will  net upon sale. They know which rooms you deck out, which ones you can let “slide”. But most of all, they know the scrapers. My editors at D Home always change that word when they see it in my copy — “don’t you mean “scrappers”?” No, I mean scrape, as in wipe that house clean off the lot. Scraper is the term real estate folks use for homes that have become functionally obsolescent — they are worn and have outlived their usefulness, like a terminally ill Medicare patient. Just pull the plug!

I, too, lived in a “scraper” for ten years that was also on the northwest corner of a lovely intersection. I knew  my girl was riding into the sunset and we watched every penny we poured into her, kind of like those comparison-effectiveness studies health care reformers want to help whittle costs. (Just wait…) We stuck to functional repairs — only repair plumbing but forget new wallpaper. In other words, resuscitate, plastic surgery out of the question. I wanted a shot at building my dream house so we sold her — one of the hardest, most retching sales I ever had. I remain great friends with my realtor to this day for this reason: I called him at two in the morning 42 hours after closing, begged him to get me out of the contract. (Client from hell, that was me.) I was sobbing: I can’t leave this home, I cried, it has way too much history and… way too much stuff. I particularly enjoyed Christine’s story, because like many of us, I like to play “what if”? What if I had not gone to the college I did, met my husband, what if I had not bought our home on Park Lane and what if my dear agent had called me back, said yes darling, I’ll reverse that transfer of funds stat and find you a nice real estate attorney to cover you for the likely lawsuit you will be in for failure to perform to contract. Never had five garage sales, packed two moving vans, moved a family of four plus three dogs and a parrot into a rent house for 1.5 years, was almost evicted from said rent house, never got my security deposit back even though the builder tore the house down to — kindling. Took him to small claims court and won, but he had filed for bankruptcy and I just got in line. Am still in line, actually.

Do you see how this scraping business created an economic frenzy? On a bright note, only one thing broke: my sister’s antique glass cake plate, and she knows nada to this day.

Christine, I know what I am getting you for Christmas: earmuffs!