So it goes like this: I’m on my couch yesterday afternoon, almost in tears because I’m SO tired and SO scared all of a sudden. I haven’t been sleeping well, waiting for the call from the realtor that never comes.
I call the office. My realtor’s brother says, “Oh, she was going to call you in about two minutes. I just got off the phone with her.”
“Is it good news or bad?”
I start to shake. Luckily, she really does call me. This is the sitch. The lender has a problem with the loan because the home-owners’ association ran in the red a couple of years ago. They had a repair that had to be made and there wasn’t enough money in the general fund (because it’s a 4-plex there’s not much money to be had). They don’t like it. My realtor has been fighting with them, and they’re sending it now to Corporate and Legal. The decision should be made by Tuesday (haven’t I heard that before?). My realtor already has another loan package put together and ready to send to another lender, should this one fall through. But will that lender like me? Who knows? They might be happy with the HOA but not with my finances…. The seller, luckily, is willing to wait. A blessing, that.
Anyway. I still have to move. My realtor and her brother have a duplex in a really great area in Piedmont and she wants me to rent it if this drags on a while. I, on the other hand, would be happier couch-surfing if it’s only going to be a few weeks or so. But if the place falls all the way through and I have to start looking all over again, I’ll take the apartment and move twice.
I can hardly bear the thought.
I had a major melt-down on the couch. I called Marama and bawled an unintelligible message on her machine. I grumped out and cried to sister Christy. I told Lala I didn’t want her to come over — I would stick it out myself. I would be strong. I would pack. Then I melted down all over again and asked her to come over. She was amazing and strong and we watched an episode of Lost. I didn’t pack. It was great.
This much I know: I have to get into a place. I need to own a property. I’ve come this far, I can’t stop now. It might suck for a while, this part might be really, really hard, but I just have to get through it.
I didn’t like the way I felt yesterday. I’m going to try to avoid that as much as possible. I need more sleep, boy howdy do I. I need more baths. More ice cream wouldn’t hurt. More time to pack, but I’m not going to get that, so I have to do the best I can with what I’ve got.
This housing thing ain’t for the weak, is it? They’d get tromped into the mud. Sheesh. But really, truly, I’m all right, and my heart is stronger now. It’ll work out for the best.
Aren’t you tired of hearing all about this? Cromarty is put together! She needs neckbands, and we’ll be havin’ a party. Speaking of parties, if you’re in the Bay Area, Becca’s having a KIP get-together tomorrow. I can’t make it, but maybe some of y’all can?
Peace, love, out. I’ll let you know when I hear more.
MWAH! (typo: MWHAT — twice.)
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