Homebuyer's hopes

My parents warned me about it. My friends told me it would one day happen to me.

Now, I as ever-too-quickly approach my 30s, my clock is ticking — my real estate clock, that is.

Owning my own home, however, is something I've fantasized about for years.

Single family home, three bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths, hardwood floors and stainless steel appliances.

Sigh.

In reality, it's more like mortgages, lending rates, down payments and amortization — all of which turn my realty dream into a monetary nightmare.

Double sigh.

After raising a son on my own for 11 years, going to university for five, living off students loans for two of those and depending on my visa for way too long, debt is a saddle I've broken in.

And, let me tell you, my backside is sore.

With my credit score hovering as low as one can get without claiming bankruptcy — which isn't even an option for another six years because of my student loans, but that's another story — any money-lending establishment would laugh me right out the front door if I was ever so brazen to ask them for a loan.

For now — and for now means the next decade — my desires of homeownership have been thwarted.

But, being a sadist, I still like to keep an eye on what's happening in the local market, in particular, the south shore — where I will (one day) buy my first home.

Now, I'm lucky enough to have procured a swanky top-floor, north-facing view condo in the heart of downtown, which I put more than 50 per cent of my monthly income towards, which I would be paying — if not less — for a mortgage.

I digress.

So to give this real estate junkie a quick fix, I leave my ludicrously over-priced condo and take a stroll through my neighbourhood, scoping out the for sale signs.

The evening is warm, the sun just setting behind the mountains, and I head east along Nicola Street.

The smell is delicious — fresh cut grass.

Small in size, but huge in character, these homes were built in the early 1950s for workers who came to the city while building the Trans-Mountain Gas Pipeline, which runs from Edmonton to Vancouver along the Yellowhead Highway.

Now referred to as Trans-Mountain homes, they boast quaint front porches, high ceilings — many upstairs rooms with sloped ceilings — and beautiful moldings.

After about eight-or-so blocks, heading towards home along Dominion Street, my heart is palpitating — not from the cardio workout I'm getting, but rather the thought of getting my do-it-yourself hands on one of these homes.

Along with a real estate addiction, I'm also afflicted with HGTV syndrome.

Not yet a recognized disease, but I'm sure there are others out there, like me, who watch (and pay premium cable for ) Home and Garden Television for hours on end, daydreaming about tiles, cabinets and bathroom renovations.

I even splurge once in awhile and buy the magazine version, tearing out pictures of gorgeous kitchens and perfect furniture I one-day hope to have.

I know, I need help.

This syndrome effects me so terribly, that I've painted (and paid out of pocket) every apartment/house/condo I've lived in.

All of which, in hindsight, could very well have contributed to my current debt situation.

So, as my behemoth 10-storey concrete building with no yard comes into sight, I'm once again a little depressed after my walk.

But, as a consolation, I do have TV and an overly-active imagination to tie me over.