When I was growing up, we were neither rich nor poor. With my dad owning a little store in town we were firmly entrenched in the middle class. When I moved out on my own and chose to work in a field that was very emotionally rewarding but that didn’t pay very well, I slipped down in the lower class. This was fine by me. I had a job that I loved and I was getting by. I met my wife through work, she is a home appraiser in Sacramento. With two incomes, things weren’t really tight until she got pregnant and decided to stay home and take care of the baby. I was one hundred percent on board with this decision but I did wonder how well we would fare with just my lower than average income to support us.
Then out of nowhere we got some incredible news, my uncle had died and left me his house. I had very rarely spoken to the man growing up. He was a total loner and he didn’t leave his house much. The first chance we got, my wife and I went out to the homestead that now belonged to us. My wife was an expert at sizing up homes, with her career field and she was able to figure out roughly how much the house would cost to maintain or to fix up and sell. We chose the second option. I had no sentimental attachment to this home and we really loved the neighborhood we were living in. For legality sake, we had a colleague of my wife come in and put in writing how much they estimated the house was worth, it was a lot because of the amount of land, just as we expected. We sold it for full asking price, just days after putting it on the market and now we have a little nest egg to take us through these lean years.