Walk Through, Take One

On Friday, we saw our apartment for the first time in over a month.  Despite the general craziness about the condo structuring sill on-going, everyone involved is pretty confident that things will still move forward.  (That's a relief.)  So we had our first walk-through since the apartment has been finished.  There will be two more along the way, one in several weeks, and the final right before closing.

It was a little surreal.  For one, this is the first time we've seen the apartment finished.  The last time we went to the building, there were no appliances in the kitchen, not quite everything had been painted, and many of the little finishing touches had yet to be installed.  The hallway on our floor had no carpet or paint as well, and truly felt like a construction zone.  This time, nearly everything was in place, and it looked like a real apartment.

Our apartment, which was the other surreal part of it.  We've been looking at apartments for a long time, and have seen so many, and have invested ourselves in more than a couple.  Is this one really ours?  No, not technically yet, but it's darn close.

For now, the questions are moving away from "What will our monthly expenses be?" and "Is this a good location?" and instead becoming "What color should this room be?" and "Along which wall will we put the couch?"  And that's close enough for me.

What's My Age Again?

Pens aside, I've been talking with a lot of people lately about what it means to be a grown-up.  Not surprisingly, I've gotten a lot of different answers.  Some say you're a grown-up when you're legally responsible for yourself at 18, others when you're out of college, or married, or buying a first house, or are responsible for another human being in some way, or have gone through some cultural rite of passage.  When you're in your twenties.  When you're in your thirties.  When people call you "sir."  When you have more married friends than single friends.  When you can't believe how young everyone else suddenly seems to be.  The definitions seem to be endless.

One of the best responses I've gotten has been, "You know when you can ask that question of yourself, and are genuinely concerned about your response."

It may be because both of my parents are in the mental health field, but I've come to believe that the mark of adulthood is a certain level of personal responsibility and self control.  (How's that for vague and high-minded?)  An adult is in control of themselves by choice.  They recognize and balance their own desires with those of their family, friends, and society.

And yet, by that definition, how many adults do I know?  Virtually none.  I know so few people who don't lose their temper publicly, make irrational decisions based on their temporary emotional state, or act out of selfishness or emotion, that I can count them in my head quickly.  Politicians cheat, celebrities party like teenagers discovering alcohol for the first time, and everyone lies to others or themselves.  I don't even qualify for adulthood myself by that generalized definition.  On the other hand, I know plenty of people over the age of 18, out of college, married, or in important positions who occasionally, some more than others, behave like they're under 18, schoolchildren, single, and face no consequences.

Consequences, by the way, factored largely into the responses I've been hearing as well.  Some say an adult has to face consequences.  Others say an adult is able to face consequences.  Yet others claim an adult is someone who foresees consequences and adjusts their own behavior accordingly.  All variations on the theme.

I am in my late twenties.  I am married.  I am (tying to) buy a home.  I have a job where I lead a team of people with little oversight.  I pay bills.  I analyze consequences before acting.  Well, most of the time anyway.  Do I get it?  Am I a grown-up now?

Are you?

So Maybe That Catch Isn't So Little

The new apartment saga continues.  While our mortgage brokers and the bank lenders bicker about what forms we should or should not sign (all of which carry little real meaning), new regulations from Fannie Mae have thrown another wrench in the works of our new building.

The building was built with the first floor much larger than the upper floors.  The first floor was intended to be large enough to hold a grocery store, or some other comparable commercial enterprise.  Meanwhile, there's a two-level garage underneath the first floor.  Compared to the upper floors, where the apartments are, roughly 60% of the floor area is commercial, leaving about 40% residential.

With the beginning of 2010 comes a new regulation stating that new condominiums cannot have more than 20% commercial space.  Whoops.

Not sure where we go from here, but it looks like it'll be an interesting ride.