We bought it somewhat naïvely in 1990, just when socialism collapsed in the east and real estate prices in our area shot through the roof. It was the only house available in our immediate area, which we didn‘t want to leave, but our children were getting too big to comfortably lodge them in one room.
On the outside, it looked fine, but the owner, who built it, was a refugee from East Germany in the early 1970s, and wanted to impress people who came to visit. He took the cheapest of the cheap when it came to heating, insulation, wiring and plumbing, and replacing the Scotch Tape and Elmer‘s glue approach he took cost us a fortune over the years.
We don‘t have any interest rate. The house was priced in German currency, and I am paid in dollars, so I wanted no currency risk hanging over my head. I emptied my savings and borrowed the rest from a well-off friend. I paid cash, in other words. Debts scare the hell out of me.
No one ever calls us wanting to buy our house. Maybe word got out what shape the insides were in
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