ON BECOMING A HOMEOWNER
Well, I’m 25 years old, and I’m a homeowner.
A year ago when the apartment complex I called home was bought and new management started sending eviction notices to my neighbors, I was forced to make a decision. This wasn’t the first time either. The duplex I lived in prior was also bought by a construction and development company who forced their residents to leave. Was this bad luck or was this just the new Nashville?
In a city where cranes and overnight demolitions are the norm, it’s not surprising that rent prices went from affordable to unattainable in less than two years. So when one of the last affordable apartment complexes inside the city limits bit the dust, the question was to rent or to buy.
ME AT 3 YEARS OLD.
I'm one of those rarities, a true Nashville native, born and raised. Not one of those, "well I've been here 5 years..." I've watched this city grow as I've grown, and I sure as hell wasn't about to be priced out of it.
And so the search began for a ramshackle house that needed some tender loving care and could be saved from the wrecking ball. A house with a manageable monthly mortgage. A house I could restore to its former glory all on my own.
Growing up with two architects as parents, we restored and renovated every house I'd ever lived in. My sister and I often skipped the cartoons. TV marathons at our house included Trading Spaces, Design On A Dime, and While You Were Out. We'd plan our own little While You Were Out and rearrange the living room furniture while our parents were gone. We'd design and redecorate our bedrooms every now and then, taking trips to Home Depot or Lowes to pick out our paint colors. I guess you could say, I've been in the business since I could walk.
So, restoring my own house? This was it, this was the dream.