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Out of Fortune's favour
Nov. 4th, 2008 03:26 pmWell that was all too good to be true. I had a house all picked out, with an offer in and accepted at a price we can manage. I got my stuff packed and moved out of Canada without incident. Made the drive down in record time (three and a half days and we were in by dinner time on the last day) with no problems at the border. The weather has been unseasonably warm and no rain at all. Everything was going along swimmingly, and if watching Soap Operas has taught me anything, it's that no one is allowed to be truly happy all the time.
Friday we're still waiting for the underwriters to make a decision. The mortgage broker explains this is normal, they try to get the end-of-the-month closes out of the way first, no big deal. Monday, I still don't hear from him. I call several times, but no response. Tuesday more phone calls, still no response. Tuesday night we have to leave the company housing and come up with something to fill the gap. We select the cheapest option because it's only a few days, no big deal. And this is where everything unravels.
The cheapest option is a flea-bag Days Inn. The "non-smoking" room has a comforter with burn holes and smells of a lot of air freshener. In fact the smell is so strong that when Anna peed on the rug I couldn't detect it at all. The guests one one side of me listen to their TV at full volume pretty much all the time. There's also a lot of expletive-laced swearing coming through the wall, so I am reluctant to say anything about the TV lest I find myself staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel. On the other side of my room, they are renovating the next room over. All afternoon as I have been wrestling with insurance and mortgage people I've had this pounding through the wall behind my head (I think they are chipping all the stucco off the walls). The breakfast in the morning consisted of my choice of 2 cereals (you've got to be joking), and while I initially thought "no big deal, at least there is a microwave so I can heat up some lunch and dinner for myself" that was quickly erased as construction began on the breakfast area right after breakfast was finished. I'm not sure I'll even get my breakfast tomorrow and I have no idea what to do for dinner now. I'd move hotels but because I booked online we're committed, and I'm also not really feeling up to packing all our crap back into the van yet again. Especially because I'd have to do it alone. Why alone? Well Monday Jason's boss announced the team was running behind and now he's in crunch hours all week. 9-9 all weekdays and maybe Saturday too. So just when I really need him most work takes him away. Couldn't be last week or next week? Nope, has to be this week; when we have to move twice, close a house and I have to spend the in-between time in the worst part of town in a hotel under renovation. But I figured it was only going to be 2 days anyway. Anything is tolerable for two days right?
And that's where more crap hits the fan. I finally managed to get in touch with my mortgage guy today around 2pm and the mortgage has fallen through. Because all these dipshits keep defaulting on their loans and foreclosing they have tightened up mortgage requirements. I have a generous down payment, excellent credit history and a husband with a stable job. But we can't get a mortgage because we cannot provide US tax returns. They'll give mortgages with 0% down, or even worse, cash back at closing so the mortgage is greater than the sale price, to Joe Loser with his part-time fly-by-night job because he can provide a social security number, even if the credit rating is terrible, and a tax return. Me, they deny. I have no debts, plenty of cash and a great record of payment and savings, not to mention the fact that we're financing this thing solely on Jason's income, and still not maxing out their limits and whatever I make would be bonus payments. But noooooo, because we're new to the country no mortgage for us.
So now I'm hanging around the banging hotel room waiting for the mortgage guy to phone me back with hopefully better news. Even if they come up with something it's doubtful that we'll make the Thursday closing, which means in addition to having to spend more days at Le Dump here, we'll also have to pay the selling agent $50 for each day we're late. Honestly, I figure he'll just call back and say the whole thing has fallen through and I'll be left scrambling to make some kind of alternate arrangements on my own.
The funny thing is although I want to be angry about this. And I know I should be angry, I had something happen today that puts it all in perspective...
While hunting for a functioning ice machine (because of course nothing at Chez Puces actually works) I ran into a disheveled looking woman in the hall. She pointed me in the direction of a working ice machine, while grumbling about how they're only doing these renovations because of all the money they're making off of "us" and the storm. It wasn't until I was in the elevator that I realized what she was talking about. "The storm" of course was Ike. That poor woman has been living here since Ike hit shore, what, 2 months ago now? Here I am bitching that it's going to take me maybe two weeks to get out of here (and honestly, if it comes to that I'm upgrading to better digs) and she's been here 2 months with no sign of relief. The rooms don't even have mini-bars for god sakes! What must she be eating? And she's probably far from the only one. At least when you get right down to it I have options.
So yeah, my life is trying right now. But it could certainly be worse.
Friday we're still waiting for the underwriters to make a decision. The mortgage broker explains this is normal, they try to get the end-of-the-month closes out of the way first, no big deal. Monday, I still don't hear from him. I call several times, but no response. Tuesday more phone calls, still no response. Tuesday night we have to leave the company housing and come up with something to fill the gap. We select the cheapest option because it's only a few days, no big deal. And this is where everything unravels.
The cheapest option is a flea-bag Days Inn. The "non-smoking" room has a comforter with burn holes and smells of a lot of air freshener. In fact the smell is so strong that when Anna peed on the rug I couldn't detect it at all. The guests one one side of me listen to their TV at full volume pretty much all the time. There's also a lot of expletive-laced swearing coming through the wall, so I am reluctant to say anything about the TV lest I find myself staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel. On the other side of my room, they are renovating the next room over. All afternoon as I have been wrestling with insurance and mortgage people I've had this pounding through the wall behind my head (I think they are chipping all the stucco off the walls). The breakfast in the morning consisted of my choice of 2 cereals (you've got to be joking), and while I initially thought "no big deal, at least there is a microwave so I can heat up some lunch and dinner for myself" that was quickly erased as construction began on the breakfast area right after breakfast was finished. I'm not sure I'll even get my breakfast tomorrow and I have no idea what to do for dinner now. I'd move hotels but because I booked online we're committed, and I'm also not really feeling up to packing all our crap back into the van yet again. Especially because I'd have to do it alone. Why alone? Well Monday Jason's boss announced the team was running behind and now he's in crunch hours all week. 9-9 all weekdays and maybe Saturday too. So just when I really need him most work takes him away. Couldn't be last week or next week? Nope, has to be this week; when we have to move twice, close a house and I have to spend the in-between time in the worst part of town in a hotel under renovation. But I figured it was only going to be 2 days anyway. Anything is tolerable for two days right?
And that's where more crap hits the fan. I finally managed to get in touch with my mortgage guy today around 2pm and the mortgage has fallen through. Because all these dipshits keep defaulting on their loans and foreclosing they have tightened up mortgage requirements. I have a generous down payment, excellent credit history and a husband with a stable job. But we can't get a mortgage because we cannot provide US tax returns. They'll give mortgages with 0% down, or even worse, cash back at closing so the mortgage is greater than the sale price, to Joe Loser with his part-time fly-by-night job because he can provide a social security number, even if the credit rating is terrible, and a tax return. Me, they deny. I have no debts, plenty of cash and a great record of payment and savings, not to mention the fact that we're financing this thing solely on Jason's income, and still not maxing out their limits and whatever I make would be bonus payments. But noooooo, because we're new to the country no mortgage for us.
So now I'm hanging around the banging hotel room waiting for the mortgage guy to phone me back with hopefully better news. Even if they come up with something it's doubtful that we'll make the Thursday closing, which means in addition to having to spend more days at Le Dump here, we'll also have to pay the selling agent $50 for each day we're late. Honestly, I figure he'll just call back and say the whole thing has fallen through and I'll be left scrambling to make some kind of alternate arrangements on my own.
The funny thing is although I want to be angry about this. And I know I should be angry, I had something happen today that puts it all in perspective...
While hunting for a functioning ice machine (because of course nothing at Chez Puces actually works) I ran into a disheveled looking woman in the hall. She pointed me in the direction of a working ice machine, while grumbling about how they're only doing these renovations because of all the money they're making off of "us" and the storm. It wasn't until I was in the elevator that I realized what she was talking about. "The storm" of course was Ike. That poor woman has been living here since Ike hit shore, what, 2 months ago now? Here I am bitching that it's going to take me maybe two weeks to get out of here (and honestly, if it comes to that I'm upgrading to better digs) and she's been here 2 months with no sign of relief. The rooms don't even have mini-bars for god sakes! What must she be eating? And she's probably far from the only one. At least when you get right down to it I have options.
So yeah, my life is trying right now. But it could certainly be worse.
