Where cozy means tiny and charming means needs work.
A hellscape for buyers where every listing gets 40 offers, homes sell for $200K over asking, and you have to write a love letter to the seller explaining why you deserve their split-level ranch. Sellers just sit back and watch the chaos.
A concept from the 1990s where young people could afford a small first home before upgrading. Now it mostly exists as a fairy tale told by boomers alongside legends of affordable college and pension plans.
The official measurement of how much space you're buying, generously calculated by including hallways, closets, and that weird alcove where the water heater lives. The number in the listing and the number you experience are two very different things.
The art of filling a home with fake furniture and decorative books nobody has read to trick buyers into thinking the space has a personality. It's catfishing, but for houses.
The value you add to a property through your own labor, tears, and increasingly creative profanity. It's free if you don't count the hospital visits, marriage counseling, and weekends you'll never get back.
When a homeowner sells their property for less than they owe on the mortgage, which sounds quick but actually takes approximately seven hundred years of bank approvals. The only thing short about it is the seller's patience.
When a property seller provides financing to the buyer, essentially acting as the bank and holding a note secured by the property. It's the real estate version of 'I'll spot you until payday'—except with six-figure stakes and actual paperwork.
When the property seller acts as the bank because either the buyer can't get a traditional loan or the seller wants to collect interest payments. It's basically a handshake agreement with paperwork, beloved by people who can't qualify for mortgages and sellers who enjoy playing banker.
A real estate hellscape where buyers compete gladiaps-style for overpriced homes, waiving inspections and offering their firstborn as closing gifts. It's when sellers can list a 900-square-foot teardown for $800K and receive 15 all-cash offers.
A transaction where the property owner sells to an investor then immediately leases it back, converting ownership to rental while extracting equity. Corporate real estate's way of having your cake, selling it, then renting it back to eat it anyway.
A complex financing structure that acts like a lease for accounting purposes but provides tax benefits of ownership, beloved by corporations and their accountants. It's the financial engineering equivalent of having your cake while also writing off the ingredients.
Short for 'subject to'—acquiring a property while leaving the existing mortgage in place and making payments on behalf of the seller. It's a creative financing technique that makes attorneys nervous and investors wealthy.
The real estate developer's favorite verb: to slice a large parcel of land into smaller, more profitable chunks like a capitalist playing Minecraft. This process transforms Farmer Joe's 40-acre field into 'Meadowbrook Estates,' featuring 200 identical homes and exactly three approved paint colors. It's the magic by which empty land becomes cookie-cutter suburbs and developers become very, very wealthy.
The specific property being appraised, analyzed, or discussed, as opposed to all those comparison properties. It's like referring to the guest of honor at a party—everyone else is just there for context.
The brutally honest (or diplomatically evasive) comments agents collect after property showings, ranging from 'loved it!' to 'we could smell the previous owner's choices from the driveway.' It's Yelp reviews for houses, but the house can't respond.
Industry slang for properties with minor cosmetic issues that scare away typical buyers but are catnip to investors and DIYers. Think ugly carpet and dated wallpaper, not structural disasters—though agents sometimes blur that line.
Buying property while leaving the existing mortgage in place under the original borrower's name. It's legally questionable, financially risky, and somehow still happens regularly.
The physical structure and materials of a property, as opposed to the land or location. It's what contractors care about and what investors try to look past while focusing on cash flow.
Buying a property while leaving the original mortgage in place—you take the deed but not the loan, assuming the seller won't trigger the due-on-sale clause.
Someone who purchases property on behalf of another party who can't or won't reveal their identity, ranging from perfectly legal privacy plays to outright mortgage fraud. The real estate equivalent of a burner phone.
Old-school market analysis conducted by physically walking neighborhoods, talking to locals, and observing street-level details that data can't capture. It's what investors did before algorithms tried to tell us everything.
The percentage of the sale price paid to agents—traditionally 5-6% split between buyer's and seller's agents because that's what we've always done.
The minimum required distance between a building and the property line or street, dictated by zoning laws. Your municipality's way of ensuring you can't build right up to the sidewalk.
The minimum time you must own a property or have a mortgage before certain transactions are allowed. Real estate's way of preventing you from flipping too fast.