Revova5im*s would be a bitch if you're talking about expansion. I'd have to fell trees and remove a perfectly good deck to get anybody around back and behind the woods house. It's well to the back center of the lot.
Pray Tell, What To Do: Veer's Ongoing New Cave Quest Saga
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Revova5im*s would be a bitch if you're talking about expansion. I'd have to fell trees and remove a perfectly good deck to get anybody around back and behind the woods house. It's well to the back center of the lot.
I appraise residential real estate. My thought was if the lender is going via the secondary market, it may not qualify due to the unique design and likely lack of comparable sales. Hopefully you are going through a local Credit Union or Bank that will keep your loan in-house, which would have less underwriting stipulations.
The "trailer park" siding is on the garage. It isn't for pretty.
The main residence is brick, with a stone and siding overlay on the fascia.
Detail:
Well, fancy kitchen house was a bust.
The kitchen was just as nice as pictured. Nicer, in fact, but not enough to balance out everything else.
The square footage was overstated. The listing agent threw in the second floor of the garage into the calculations, evidently.
The garage, while big enough to accommodate the Mack diesel tow truck that was parked in there, was closer to a six-bay than an eight. It was a bit run down, and full of glaring code violations. And then there was the question of the hydraulics in the floor. Too much of a risk. Here's the data plate, FWIW:
The house, outside of the kitchen, was pretty much builder-grade, but solidly done, and the two bedrooms were smaller than anticipated.
The basement had a re-poured concrete floor with French drains, redundant wiring still snaking through the joists, and when we uncovered the pumpless sump, the inserted hose was going at a good trickle down the hole ... to where?
The second house that we looked at on the same day, the one in the woods, was a let down.
Firstly, the neighbor: evidently, pond scum. It's one thing to be a ridgerunner. Hell, I'm one. But it's another to let your shit go ramshackle and refuse to part with any vehicle that you've ever bought. Too close.
The house could have been nice enough, but the owner cheap-Johned the repairs and did a lot of completely unprofessional work himself to the detriment of its value. The in-law suite would have been better for a workshop. It had all the charm of a cheap, third-rate motel within a drunken drive of a roadhouse for a third-rate rendezvous. The rain gutters were stuffed with leaves, and there was a general state of neglect.
The back yard was small and overwhelmed by a raised deck on the one corner, although the property line went a ways back and significantly to the right on an L-shaped lot. The slope wasn't insurmountable behind the house, but they had called it quits on removing the half-a-VW sized boulders going up the incline as soon as there was enough space to wedge the house in.
So, on we go. One that's come up is on over ten acres going up a ridge, heavily wooded, and the lot is shaped so that I could set up a range easily, knocking down enough trees. Not sure about the construction. It's got some Shangri-la factors going on, including its elevation, relative remoteness, and setback from the road, but the area is notorious for white supremacist activity. That, unfortunately, is a given in this neck of the woods, and I'd just as soon be behind the wheel of an F-150, instead of behind its cargo bed.
The kitchen was just as nice as pictured. Nicer, in fact, but not enough to balance out everything else.
The square footage was overstated. The listing agent threw in the second floor of the garage into the calculations, evidently.
The garage, while big enough to accommodate the Mack diesel tow truck that was parked in there, was closer to a six-bay than an eight. It was a bit run down, and full of glaring code violations. And then there was the question of the hydraulics in the floor. Too much of a risk. Here's the data plate, FWIW:
The house, outside of the kitchen, was pretty much builder-grade, but solidly done, and the two bedrooms were smaller than anticipated.
The basement had a re-poured concrete floor with French drains, redundant wiring still snaking through the joists, and when we uncovered the pumpless sump, the inserted hose was going at a good trickle down the hole ... to where?
The second house that we looked at on the same day, the one in the woods, was a let down.
Firstly, the neighbor: evidently, pond scum. It's one thing to be a ridgerunner. Hell, I'm one. But it's another to let your shit go ramshackle and refuse to part with any vehicle that you've ever bought. Too close.
The house could have been nice enough, but the owner cheap-Johned the repairs and did a lot of completely unprofessional work himself to the detriment of its value. The in-law suite would have been better for a workshop. It had all the charm of a cheap, third-rate motel within a drunken drive of a roadhouse for a third-rate rendezvous. The rain gutters were stuffed with leaves, and there was a general state of neglect.
The back yard was small and overwhelmed by a raised deck on the one corner, although the property line went a ways back and significantly to the right on an L-shaped lot. The slope wasn't insurmountable behind the house, but they had called it quits on removing the half-a-VW sized boulders going up the incline as soon as there was enough space to wedge the house in.
So, on we go. One that's come up is on over ten acres going up a ridge, heavily wooded, and the lot is shaped so that I could set up a range easily, knocking down enough trees. Not sure about the construction. It's got some Shangri-la factors going on, including its elevation, relative remoteness, and setback from the road, but the area is notorious for white supremacist activity. That, unfortunately, is a given in this neck of the woods, and I'd just as soon be behind the wheel of an F-150, instead of behind its cargo bed.
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Second and sixth pictures tell the whole story. Spent it all on the kitchen, only $$ left for port-a-potty.
My bride informed me years ago that she would never again live adjoining or over a shop. Something about me clanging and banging and welding and grinding and cleaning and and and..........and. My shop is eighty-three yards from the house,my bride is happy.
ymmv.
My bride informed me years ago that she would never again live adjoining or over a shop. Something about me clanging and banging and welding and grinding and cleaning and and and..........and. My shop is eighty-three yards from the house,my bride is happy.
ymmv.
Oh yeah, I'm in the same boat but my shop is 62 miles away (for the big stuff)
Was there not a portajohn in the second pic? Were there any other pics that hinted at other facilities? Humor maybe, sarcasm? Me?
Lobotomy......? Not that I recall.
It had bathrooms, two full ones. Nothing exciting. The "office cubicle" was so that the owner didn't have to trudge all of thirty yards home.
The other current contender has twice the acreage, is out in the woods, has four bays, an in-law suite, and costs $65K less. Backseat Driver 6 is telling me that we can buy that kitchen. I know her, and I know that it's easier to slightly overbuy and get what you would want to have, rather than dragging her into a drawn-out renovation. Oh, and @sirhrmechanic she squawked when she saw her call sign. I said, "Relax, it could be ...
... Busenhalter."
That kitchen would eat up a lot of the $65K. Stove/hood are 10-14K alone. Cabinets you mentioned would take you to 30-35K. But you would have fewer neighbors which is something I always aspire to
Well, fancy kitchen house was a bust.
The kitchen was just as nice as pictured. Nicer, in fact, but not enough to balance out everything else.
The square footage was overstated. The listing agent threw in the second floor of the garage into the calculations, evidently.
The garage, while big enough to accommodate the Mack diesel tow truck that was parked in there, was closer to a six-bay than an eight. It was a bit run down, and full of glaring code violations. And then there was the question of the hydraulics in the floor. Too much of a risk. Here's the data plate, FWIW:
The house, outside of the kitchen, was pretty much builder-grade, but solidly done, and the two bedrooms were smaller than anticipated.
The basement had a re-poured concrete floor with French drains, redundant wiring still snaking through the joists, and when we uncovered the pumpless sump, the inserted hose was going at a good trickle down the hole ... to where?
The second house that we looked at on the same day, the one in the woods, was a let down.
Firstly, the neighbor: evidently, pond scum. It's one thing to be a ridgerunner. Hell, I'm one. But it's another to let your shit go ramshackle and refuse to part with any vehicle that you've ever bought. Too close.
The house could have been nice enough, but the owner cheap-Johned the repairs and did a lot of completely unprofessional work himself to the detriment of its value. The in-law suite would have been better for a workshop. It had all the charm of a cheap, third-rate motel within a drunken drive of a roadhouse for a third-rate rendezvous. The rain gutters were stuffed with leaves, and there was a general state of neglect.
The back yard was small and overwhelmed by a raised deck on the one corner, although the property line went a ways back and significantly to the right on an L-shaped lot. The slope wasn't insurmountable behind the house, but they had called it quits on removing the half-a-VW sized boulders going up the incline as soon as there was enough space to wedge the house in.
So, on we go. One that's come up is on over ten acres going up a ridge, heavily wooded, and the lot is shaped so that I could set up a range easily, knocking down enough trees. Not sure about the construction. It's got some Shangri-la factors going on, including its elevation, relative remoteness, and setback from the road, but the area is notorious for white supremacist activity. That, unfortunately, is a given in this neck of the woods, and I'd just as soon be behind the wheel of an F-150, instead of behind its cargo bed.
Just explain to them the aryans came from India and you're the highest level of whiteness, the Mighty Whitey. If they seem suspicious, demonstrate your superior use of English.
Five or six years ago, I had someone try to run me over in a parking lot two miles from the property, after telling me to go back home five minutes prior, in the shop. That's not hysteria; that's personal history.
