In a week and a half, I’m buying a condo.

I feel like I should take a bow.

Yes, I am excited. There’s a Pinterest board that my sister and I are sharing to pretend-decorate the new place. I’ve priced out some stupid shades from Ikea, that will be just fine until we find beautiful curtains that will really tie the room together.

I’ve signed 490 pieces of paper, both electronically and via PDF/fax/scan/email. I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up with a mail-order bride based on the sheer volume of things I’m signing that I haven’t fully scrutinized. For all I know, Andi is going to make me sign a piece of paper that states, “Andi is the bestest in the westest ever,” and I probably won’t even bat an eye.

One thing that did strike my attention, though, was Private Mortgage Insurance, or PMI.

What is PMI? (Private Mortgage Insurance)?

As far as I can tell, PMI is an expensive scam. It’s insurance that you pay if you don’t have 20% equity in your home. Insurance is all well and good, but this insurance is different. This insurance does not insure you, the homeowner, from anything.

Instead, you’re paying insurance to cover the bank’s butt, should you walk away from your home without 20% equity.

Also, it doesn’t just automatically disappear once you’ve hit the magical 20% threshold. No. You have to figure out who to call, figure out how to get that payment removed, how to get your own money back.

When I was looking, my mortgage guy showed me a loan where PMI was $225 a month, or … you know, more than a car loan!

And that’s just absurd.

Why do “They” Offer PMI, Anyway?

This is the part that really gets me. Clearly, allowing us to buy a house with less than 20% as a down payment is a nice thing to do. It opens up the possibility of home ownership to those of us who want to take advantage of these interest rates but are years away from having enough money to put down. I’m definitely in this boat, but due to the generosity of my parents, I don’t have to pay PMI.

I was talking to a friend about PMI, and she doesn’t see it as something so evil (to be fair, she was quoted $115 a month for PMI, verses the $225 a month that I was shown).

She said that in her family’s situation, PMI is a small price to pay for the ability to have cash around, in an easily-accessible bank account. I get that. I mean, as much as I get anything that someone who has a completely different life explains to me.

What’s the Point of PMI?

I think, honestly, PMI is set up as a deterrent to people who don’t yet have 20% saved. It’s another barrier. It’s like they’re saying, “okay, so you don’t have enough equity. We are going to make you pay an extra fee each month just so we know you’re serious enough to stick in this house until you’ve built it up.

Should you do it?

I wouldn’t. If I weren’t the luckiest girl in the world who is getting a gifted down payment, then I would be renting, not owning. It’s one thing to pay a homeowner’s association fee.

It’s quite another to pay insurance that doesn’t protect you.

What about you? Would you get PMI? Would it depend on how much it cost? How much would you be willing to spend?

Several months ago, I wrote about the condo that was too good to be true. Then, I wrote in January about how I wasn’t going to look for real estate anymore, because buying a condo in Portland was just too expensive to consider all by myself.

One of the things that came from me writing that blog post is that Andi, one of my friends from the internet, who recently got her real estate licence, emailed me.

“I really hated that story about your experience, and I don’t want that to make you change your mind about Portland real estate altogether,” she said.

“Let me introduce you to my friend in the mortgage business.”

I met with him, and he was cool. I even have a tiny, innocent, I know he’s married, so don’t give me a hard time, crush on him.

Then, I decided not to buy.

Nothing was available in my price range and location and “not needing a scary dog or a large man around all the time” neighborhood.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not while I’m single. Not at this price range.

Last week, I was out-of-town attending to the only business that really matters, family business. But of course, I was never very far away from my computer, and Andi sent me an email.

“Hey, so that condo you loved? It’s now FHA approved. I know you said you didn’t want to buy, but I thought I should check with you anyway.”

It was an easy choice. This condo was far and away the prettiest, fanciest, most adorable little thing I had seen. The location, while not 100% amazing, is not “scary dog” bad either.

So now, after wondering, “whatever will I do with all this money that isn’t going toward debt repayment each month?” I have an answer: it’ll go right back to debt repayment.

Yesterday, Andi came by my work to get me to sign a few more things (holy cow buying a condo kills a lot of trees!) and to get “earnest money” from me.

The Concept of Earnest Money

Earnest Money is a little funny to me. I mean, for one thing, it implies that every other dollar I’ve been spending has been frivolous. It also implies that maybe, just maybe, I was pretending. Maybe I like signing papers. Maybe I just want to see what the seller will negotiate down to. Maybe I like wasting everyone’s time.

But now, the title company has a check that says, no, actually, I do want to move in there. In fact, why not have half of my savings account? There we go. Now I’m earnest.

And now, we inspect.

“Congratulations!” people say. And really, I’m so excited. But I also want to throw up a little. And cry a little.

I like it, though, the idea that I don’t actually need to wait around for “some man” to help me afford to live somewhere. That waiting struck me as oddly anti-feminist. You know what, universe? I can take care of myself! And I get to move into something that is uniquely mine.*

Sure, my sister will live with me for six months. But she can only suggest design things. She doesn’t get to decide. I don’t have to compromise on anything.

Also, hardly anything has to be done to this place.

It’s so, so lovely.

My only complaints so far are that there is no washer and dryer (which seems silly to me —- the seller went the extra mile with a gas range and stainless steel appliances, why leave out the washing machine?) and that it looks a little like a timeshare.

Like a ski lodge timeshare.

As far as complaints go, though, they’re minimal. Nitpicky, even.

Anyway, as long as the inspector says “looks pretty good to me,” we will close on May 23.

And I will live there for the next decade, at least.

Which is about as close to forever as I can think these days.

The Moral of this Story

I know, without a smidgen of doubt, that I would not be buying this condo were it not for this blog. Andi is wonderful, and I never would have met her. My old realtor never informed me about the change in the financial situation of this place, so it wouldn’t have come up. Even if I’d seen it on Trulia, there’s no way I would have known that it had turned magically into something I can buy.

I wouldn’t have gotten to know Andi, either, as nice as she is. We just don’t run in the same circles (and by that I mean, she doesn’t come over to my home while I’m in my pajamas on my computer!).

The internet is a strange and wonderful place. Filled with (b)logger friends. I cannot recommend starting a blog enough, friends!

Who wants to come visit? I will have a guest room!

*Uniquely mine comes with a HUGE caveat: my parents are filled with more goodness than I could ever hope to consider and are gifting me the down payment. There’s just no way on earth I could do this without them, and I’d be doing a HUGE disservice to them if I neglected to mention just how lucky I am to be able to buy now instead of in five years (when real estate prices will have skyrocketed and I’ll be so glad I bought!). So, again, Mom? Dad? You are two of the absolute best people on the planet. I love you!