Just Tell Me When It's Over

Are you wondering about the house? Of course you aren’t. You all have fun and exciting and productive lives, while my every waking and sleeping moment is consumed by house (and not the Hugh Laurie kinda House!).

We were, allegedly, supposed to close tomorrow. It was a pipe dream, my friends. Never gonna happen.

Daniel and I spent 8 (that’s right – EIGHT) hours in our mortgage consultant’s office on Tuesday. We were there promptly at 9 am, bearing cups of Starbucks, for a 1 hour scheduled meeting to update our file, submit our bank application, and lock in our interest rate. And then things went downhill in a hurry. It’s difficult to even adequately articulate WHAT exactly we did during that 8 hours, but there was cursing, and tears and maniacal rants (oh, and no lunch – which perhaps contributed to the maniacal rants).

We have jumped through more hoops than a goddamn circus poodle! All for a wonky lil cottage painted a heinous shade of flesh into which we’re going to have to pour massive amounts of sweat and cash. Sometimes I have to remind myself why I ever wanted my own house in the first place.

Okay, but here’s the good news. Our agent, who deserves WAY more than the 3% he’ll be getting, got us another extension on our closing date. We have until March 31st. And if we can’t manage to close by then, I’m out. I’m done. I’ll rent or live in a tree or live in a refrigerator box over a sidewalk grate on Church Street. Because I can’t keep up this frenetic emotional and psychological strain.

Oh, and I’m also tired of people trying to commiserate. I know I would probably do the same damn thing if someone kept complaining to me of their house-buying trials; you know, try to empathize and say soothing things like, “we’ve all been there...it’s always so stressful buying a house…etc.” But dammit! This is different. Anything we could possibly do to make buying a house more difficult than it already is under normal circumstances, we’re doing. Which makes us either a.) clinically insane or b.) incredibly stupid. Take your pick. In the meantime, cross your fingers that this all ends SOON before somebody gets hurt!


Jen said...

I won't commiserate...mostly because I've never bought a house. I have been living in an old jalopy of a house for the last 8 months - when you do finally buy your house (which I'm sure you will) and start working on it...I'll commiserate then.

Until such time...I'm just glad that I'm moving into an apartment.

Good luck!

Mars Girl said...

I can't commiserate because my experiences selling and buying were generally not very eventful... And, in fact, not to make you feel worse, but I always thought, "That's IT?" and couldnt figure out why so many people complain. But your experience sounds hurrendous. I would have already given up. I'm not that patient or able to deal with stress. Cute house, though!

boty said...

oh Saffron it's nothing mass quantities of vodka and chocolate won't cure...just come live in Mum's driveway with me!! ;-)