Soooo, we recently had a house fire. We're fine, and even the "stuff" we care about seems to be fine. But it has been eye-opening for any number of reasons, so I thought I'd chat a bit about a few things I've learned.
1. However much insurance you have, it's not enough, thanks to supply chain. I had literally twice as much insurance as I ever thought I'd need; it's a 140-year-old house, so we knew any rebuild would be far more than normal, so I got increased limits, full replacement value, the rider to cover upgrades to bring the house up to current codes, automatic inflation increases, you name it. It looks like we're going to be within our limits -- we think -- but it's going to be way closer than I ever would have thought, because construction prices around here are up probably 50% in the past year or two. Because supply chain. Plus it's going to take 18 months to 2 years to rebuild -- see supply chain, supra. For a relatively minor fire (i.e., small structural rebuild that's limited to maybe 1/4 of the roof, mostly water/smoke damage).*
Go increase your insurance. Now. I've spent less than $2K/yr on home insurance, all riders and extras included. We're going to have a claim well over $1M. And we're not exactly in NYC or CA.
2. You are not logical in an emergency situation, even when you think you are. I was not at all emotional during the fire; we sat on a neighbor's porch watching the fire engines and drinking scotch, and I was joking about our "literal housewarming party." So I truly thought I was acting rationally and logically.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Did I grab our "important documents" file that we made for an emergency, which was within arm's reach? Did I grab my ID or credit cards, or our passports that were 3' away? Nope. I did, however, make sure I had my glass of tea. And my iPad that had my library books on it.
Did I go back in after the documents when I thought of them, or after the cat? Nope. I did, however, run back in to make sure I signed off my Zoom call. Because it would have been rude to just disappear and leave people hanging. (Now there's a conversation for you: "I'm sorry, I have to go, I've been told my house is on fire.")
I was standing barefoot in the middle of the street -- in March -- because I didn't think to grab my flip-flops. An absolutely lovely neighbor came by and asked if I needed shoes. And I thought, eh, it's mid-60s, I'm not cold, I don't want to inconvenience her. And I said no. Luckily for me, she didn't listen to me and came back with shoes anyway.
I didn't want to call my mother to tell her, because I didn't want her to feel she needed to cut her business trip short. I had the day of the week wrong by 2-3 days, and she was literally on the flight home when the fire happened. I kept telling people she'd be home Thursday night and didn't figure it out until someone said, "uhhh, it IS Thursday night."
Again: I felt 100% rational and logical this whole time. No panic, no tears, no fretting. But apparently part of my brain just shut down; I was functioning, but not actually processing. That was actually the scariest part: realizing after the fact how irrationally I acted while feeling perfectly normal. The lack of panic/tears gave me a false sense of competence.
3. It is so, SO good to have extra $$$ freely available and to LBYM! Now, I have to say, our insurance has been awesome so far -- my broker was walking up the sidewalk not 15 minutes after I called the 800-number to notify them of the fire. He offered me an immediate check, came by again the next morning to offer a check for whatever we needed, and has called several times since then. He cannot seem to process that we have enough in the bank to manage our immediate needs.
But this is also going to be a looooong process -- old house = complex claim -- so it will probably be a couple of years before everything is settled. And in the interim, we have to replace almost all of our clothes, food, toiletries, small appliances, kid toys, etc. (side note: smoke damage is a bitch), while still covering all our normal living expenses, planning vacations, etc. We have been able to run to the stores and spend literally thousands of dollars on clothes, makeup, a new mattress, etc., without batting an eye. So my stress level is way, way lower than I had ever thought it would be in this situation, because it's just money, and we have enough of that.
And more importantly: when we do get to that ultimate insurance payout, we will not be forced to settle for less than we deserve because we're just desperate for cash. Our contractor is already telling us that the rebuild is going to be c. $300-400K more than the numbers the insurance adjustor was throwing around, so I expect that we will be arguing about that for months. But we can afford to do so for as long as it takes, because we don't need their money right this minute to afford our lifestyle.
Money isn't just freedom. It's power.
4. In the end, it's always about people. I am not particularly sociable; I'm perfectly nice and like my neighbors very much, but I'm not exactly the one throwing the block parties, you know? And yet the entire neighborhood turned out for us, bringing food and clothes (and The Macallan 12-yr!), offering places to stay, and whatever else we needed. Even a local restaurant owner who I've never met saw the fire went in and told her employees to make whatever they could in 20 minutes and brough a giant feast for us all. I still haven't cried about the fire, but my throat closes up when I think about all of the invisible caring around me.
*It's been weeks, and I am still genuinely flabbergasted at this. My house looks almost normal, except for some plywood on the roof and over a couple of windows. The attic is shot, but even the main living floors look almost normal. And yet the rebuild is going to cost at least 50% more than the house is even worth -- for such a relatively minor fire!!! Does. Not. Compute.
