How Buying a Hoarder House at an Auction made my dreams come true

Don't call me crazy yet, but I bought the worst house in my neighborhood. This was a real “dirty dog.” Not only was the house falling apart but the place looked like a complete junk yard. You won't believe the whole story!

WHY?

Why did I, a single mama already too busy with my passel of kids, buy such a living nightmare? I am sane enough to, at times, question my own sanity, so I can’t use the excuse that I’m crazy. The real answer is because of an amazing gift I was given as a very small human.

My imagination.

When I look at anything, I don’t just see what it is, I see what it was and what it has the potential to be. When I looked at this ramshackled disaster, I saw a cute little house with a beautiful yard. I also saw rental income that could help me continue being a stay at home single mama. So, I presented the bank with a very small cash offer to take this mess off their hands and they graciously and emphatically said, “NO WAY!”

I may not look mighty, but I don’t spurn easily, so I quickly researched how to buy a house at auction and two weeks later when this house was to be sold to the highest bidder, there I was with my adorable kids, on the courthouse steps registered and ready for battle. By the grace of God and some very cute pouty assistants who stared down everyone that attempted to bid against me, I bought this little treasure for only $1,000 more than the offer I had made directly to the bank a fortnight prior.

“Am I bid $26,000 for this property?” the professional auctioneer seemed somewhat bored with this low priced mess. Lucky for him, there was only an address on the whiteboard and no photos. I quickly raised my hand, glancing around to see if anyone else dared to bid against me.

“Who will give 27,000?” A man in his 40s who looked just as bored as the auctioneer, raised his head in a quick nod. My kids all looked at him shocked.

“Twenty-EIGHT thousand dollars, am I bid 28?” the auctioneer continued looking into the crowd.

“Twenty-seven thousand and one hundred dollars,” I ventured, confident but quiet. There was a slight murmur around me and I suspected thousand dollar increases might be the norm around here. Before the auctioneer could respond, another man stepped to the front of the group. His arms were folded firmly across his chest and he looked directly at the auctioneer, “28,000,” he stated confidently in an accent that sounded middle eastern. My children looked at him beseechingly and he avoided their cute stares looking away from us. The people gathered behind him stepped back ever so slightly leaving him alone in front of the canopy where all the action was happening.

I was feeling nervous now. I had been so confident that THIS was meant to be MY house. I’d had a feeling in my gut for weeks about it. I just knew it was supposed to be. “28,100” I raised his bid by 100 dollars knowing I only had $35,000 to work with. Maybe I was crazy, I began to doubt the whole thing.

The auctioneer looked at the man with the brown shirt and frowning face. His arms still tightly folded across his chest and his body positioned so he didn’t have to look at the little hopeful faces of my family, “Twenty-eight, five,” he ventured.

As the auctioneer turned his eyes in my direction, I said, predictably, “Twenty-eight thousand, six hundred.” We continued edging the price higher and higher.

“29,000.”

“$29,100”

“29,500”

“$29,600.” Brown shirt looked irritated and less confident. As I doggedly hung in there. “30,000,” he offered, turning to look challengingly in my direction this time.

I decided to go for it, “$31,000,” I said jumping a whole 1000 for the first time and then looking directly into his eyes. The whole crowd was silent, enjoying the performance, I’m sure. Then suddenly, brown shirt unfolded his arms, threw them up in the air, shook his head in frustration and walked away through the aisle created as people stepped back. No one cheered out loud, but I felt their silent satisfaction and approval as the auctioneer intoned, “Going once, going twice, going three times, sold for $31,000!”

The kids looked up at me with their excited eyes. I returned their enthusiastic gaze, as I stepped to the table calmly and quietly to pay for my new adventure.

NOW WHAT?

Excited but somewhat incredulous that I had actually just bought a hoarder house for $31,000 at an auction, I reached for the hands of my adoring children. They really didn’t have a clue what I had just done and to be completely honest, neither did I. Little did we know at that time what an amazing treasure this little place would be. I believe it was truly a gift from God.

After returning the balance of the “auction” money to the bank and dropping my little darlings home, I headed straight to my new property, to meet the gentleman who had been living there rent free and filling the property with various and sundry treasures for years. Lee was a quiet man. I had observed him from a distance returning home with yet another truck load of collected items. Looked like trash to me and probably to the rest of the neighbors too.

When Lee had quit paying his rent several years prior, the owner had taken one look at the condition of the place and simply quit paying the mortgage. He figured the bank would take care of evicting Lee and cleaning up the ginormous mess. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I had worked, after all, as a volunteer for Habitat for Humanity rehabbing inner city houses while I was in college. This was not the first mess I had ever seen. It was definitely the first mess that I was wholly responsible for. Yikes! My intention was to rent a giant dumpster as soon as Lee was gone and fill it up as many times as I needed to. I had estimated maybe $2-3000 in dump fees should do it and then I’d be able to start rehabbing the house and cleaning the yard. I wished I could get started today.

It was March 16, 2017.

Parking in front of the house as there was no room to enter the large driveway, I got out of the car. Looking at the collection up close, even my imagination was having a hard time envisioning the potential. Picking my way gingerly around a lopsided stack of tires, a slightly leaning makeshift shelving unit loaded with rusty cans and bottles of things I could not even identify, I managed to reach the front door. It was a sturdy, real wood door with a beautiful brass lion head knocker. Grasping the lion head, I tapped it firmly against the door three times. After a long wait, in which I heard scuffling and possibly heavy things being moved around, the door opened a crack. “Hello,” croaked a gruff voice. I couldn’t see the face that accompanied the voice, but I assumed it must be Lee. We had never met even though I lived in the neighborhood, though I had often seen him from a distance. “Hi,” I responded pleasantly. “I am the new owner here. I am sure you knew the house was being sold today.” Being faced with the real human who was about to be displaced suddenly gave me pause. I knew the situation was terrible and what I was about to do was important and necessary but the reality that this was all on me struck me full force. It was up to me to evict Lee and I intended to do it as kindly as he would let me. By law, I already knew I had to give him 14 days notice.

“Yeah, I saw something about that,” he replied, sounding matter of fact as if we were talking about the weather.

“Would you mind if I came in to look around? I am planning to get started fixing the place up soon and I would like to get at least an idea of the inside so I can start planning.”

“I don’t mind,” he responded immediately, “but I don’t think you’d be able to walk in here right now. Can you give me a couple days to clear some paths for you to get through?” He opened the door a bit more so I could see what he meant. The house was as full as the yard. Maybe more.

“Ok. I will plan to come back Monday then. Does afternoon work for you?”

He agreed and closed the door. I made my way back to the car being careful not to disturb any piles or step on anything that could puncture my foot. Whew. I knew it was unlikely, but as I looked around, I really hoped he was planning to take all this with him when he moved out.

Monday afternoon, I was ready. I had a copy of the vacate notice I had typed up over the weekend and this time I was wearing boots! When I got there, Lee was in the yard moving things around. “Hi,” I greeted him again, “How’s it going?”

“Oh it’s going.” he replied. We chatted a bit and he showed me a tractor he had just retrieved.

“Were you able to clear the way for me to take a peek inside?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, sure. Come on in.”

As he shoved the door hard, to get it open enough for us to walk in, I was almost overpowered by the smell. The walls were dark and the lights dim. I was a little nervous. Stepping gingerly and trying not to knock anything over, I wound my way through the paths he had created to allow me to look into each of the rooms. I noted a very narrow back door and three skylights that let in more light in the back part of the house. He eagerly showed me a tiny little ladder that popped out of a closet and led the way up to a loft in the back bedroom. That ladder brought my vision back and with a clearer mind I looked around seeing what this house was going to be.

“Do you want to see the basement?” he asked pleasantly. I looked around seeing no more doorways that could possibly lead to a basement. “Sure?” I was confused. He started moving boxes again and I had to step into the hallway to stay out of the way. Once he had cleared a section of floor, he lifted a heavy trap door that apparently led to the basement.

Now this is the place in my story where the foolish mother could disappear for days, weeks or months, maybe forever, trapped in the basement of the crazy hoarder in the neighborhood. Thankfully, my real story was uneventful other than a plethora of spiderwebs that motivated me to climb halfway down the stairs, glance around and quickly retreat to the less spidery though equally overpowering main floor.

Practically tiptoeing back to the front door and breathing deeply as I stepped outside, I turned to speak with Lee about his pending move out date.

“Thank you so much for showing me around. We do need to talk about you moving out.” He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Yeah, I knew that was coming.” he sighed.

“By law, I need to give you 14 days notice to move out. You have an awful lot of stuff to move, so I was thinking that if you give me your word that you will work hard to get all this out of here, I will give you till May 31st. That is more than 60 days. 2 and a half months.” He looked up at me surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. I am very reasonable. I know you’ have not been paying rent here and I am very anxious to get to work, but if I give you extra time and you work hard to get all this stuff out I think that is a deal I can live with. What do you think?”

His eyes travelled over the yard, I’m sure he was recounting the effort of bringing all these vehicles and tools and tires and items to the property. “I can do my best.” he promised, offering me his grateful hand. We shook, and I handed him the paperwork I had already prepared. He signed my copy and I left him with his.

I knew there was no way he would get it all, but everything he removed was less I’d have to pay to take to the dump. I also knew the cost of a messy eviction and I was crossing my fingers that by being more than reasonable he would vacate gracefully. I knew I was taking a chance but I really did sense a divine hand guiding me through this entire process and I was willing to gamble with two more months.

It took him till June 4th, but with very little fuss, the place was mine. As expected, he left behind SO much stuff. That day, as I was walking around and making a mental note of how much I needed to dispose of, I recalled a conversation I had with Lee over the last couple of days. He told me that he was saving all the metal to scrap when the metal prices went up. This sent my wild imagination down an amazing rabbit trail, I attribute it to God. I suddenly realized I could sell or scrap most of this stuff and avoid paying to take it to the dump.

With nothing more than my cell phone and a pen and paper, I took pictures and inventoried everything I could easily identify. The next months were spent sorting things that looked the same into sections, running ads on Craigslist, and having yard sale after yard sale. The customers that came to my sales were the best. I met so many amazing people. Latching onto a handy grandpa, I would lead them around the yard asking them to identify various strange items. I learned about different metals and how to tell a good used tire from a bad one, and what was an antique vs. what was just junk. “Don’t you dare give that away,” they would tell me, “No less than $200 for that bike! You hear me?” And I would dutifully make note and then share my new authority in the next internet ad, confidently demanding top dollar and then settling for a little less to make sure everyone was happy. And who knew, but all that rust that made so many things look old and worthless, it has a name, and people like it! They pay extra for the “patina” on certain objects. I sold the trailers, the motorcycles the snowmobiles, the tires. I sold ALL the tires! They would have cost so much to dispose of. I even sold the two outbuildings!

And what didn’t sell, I learned how to sort and scrap. I learned that instead of paying to throw away metal things, you can take it to a recycler and they will pay you! It’s great. It’s like going to the dump but you leave with more money and less junk! It is almost my favorite.

When all was said and done, after a ton of hard work, the stuff was all cleared out and I made over $10,000 from selling and scrapping. And I never did rent a dumpster!

At the same time as the sales were going on we were rehabbing the house too. We knocked out walls and tore out a floor, we put in all new fixtures and flooring and cabinets. Friends came very generously, giving of their time and experience and together we turned this mess into a beautiful little house.

It is difficult to put into words the magnitude or the beauty of this amazing gift. I am a single mama trying to work part time from home and do a good job of raising and educating my kids. We are very thrifty and don’t need a ton to live on. I sincerely believe this was a divine project in every way. From the initial idea to buy a foreclosure, to showing me which house to buy, to all the details, including (and this is a story for another day), an absolutely amazing gift of the money needed to buy and fix the house which arrived a week before the auction date.

Hidden within the piles were a number of treasures that I was able to save for myself and some friends. My very favorite is this beautifully intricate wrought iron fence.

The ultimate gift, and the real bargain however, was this beautifully fixed up house which now generates an income for my family, helping me to fulfill my biggest dream of trying to be the best mom I can be to my kids each and every day.

Thank you for reading my amazing story about the time I dreamed I could buy a foreclosed on hoarders house at an auction and turn it into income to help support my family.

I encourage you. Don't be afraid to dream or hope or pray. You will be amazed too at what can happen when you are willing to step out and give life a chance.

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