Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
We learned yesterday that our dream of building a house on our little piece of land in the Sierra foothills is defunct. Merry Christmas.
I could chalk it up to a lot of things, including some naïvete on our part, but mainly I blame the architects — a husband and wife team out of Sacramento — who led us down the primrose path. After a swift bait and switch from our hoped-for 1800 square feet to just over 1300, it became increasingly clear that no contractor wanted to touch a project that small, so all the bidders jacked up their numbers to compensate. Our budget was busted before the first shovel could break into that beautiful red ground up there. Four years of planning, and wishing, down the drain.
Had we gone ahead with the house, we’d have been under water on the day we moved in, possibly never to recover. It would have been foolhardy to give in to the temptation. Add in the inevitable cost overruns and the insanely high permit fees in that county, and you have quite the catastrophe on your hands.
At least we dodged that bullet, though we did drop a ton of money on those architects. Non-refundable, of course. And they weren’t the least bit contrite either.
Anyone out there looking to buy five acres in Gold Country?