soapboxdiner

With hope and resignation . . .

I'm all out of sorts, darlings. Here we finally got an offer on the house that we've accepted. I was just getting ready to settle down into leaving the laundry piled on the couch again, when it hit me. Time is short.

Of course I was counting on extra time for the bank to approve the short sale. I expected that everything else would wait. I hadn't anticipated that the title company would be working concurrently, and that if the bank accepts, we could potentially close in about three weeks.

I was laying in bed last night, and realized, I have to adjust my thinking now. We have an offer on the house, and it's not going to be ours anymore.

It's not going to be ours anymore. I hadn't planned for having to come to terms with that. But it was in a good way that I said that to me, though. It was like reading the last page of your favorite book, where you just sigh a little bit, and remember your favorite parts as you close the back cover and place it back on the bookshelf.

But I got a letter from the title company today, asking me to fax them information on my mortgage company. And it was only then that I realized, I have three weeks to move. I have things to sell, things to trash, things to pack. We have to be outta here, dude.

And I got another call from the buyer's agent, wanting to set an appointment for tomorrow for the buyers to come look at the house again. That's three visits and counting. I can't relax now. I can't take a deep breath yet. I have to move.

I have to move.

But now, at least, I know where we're going, so that is a relief. My sister-in-law is a mortgage underwriter, and with the market as it is, her company has folded. She's out of a job come February. My brother is in new home construction, and nobody is building anymore. Who even knows if his company will make it. They have a 3-year-old, and a 5 bedroom house they just bought two years ago. So the kid and I will be moving in with them for a year or two, while SIL goes back to school. They'll have the upstairs, and we'll have the down. We'll only share the kitchen and shower, and hopefully we'll all come out ahead.

Or at least break even.

Of course I won't be able to foster now - at least while I'm living with them. So that means I'll have to get a second job to start saving for the huge hit I'm going to take on the 'capital gains' tax I'll have to pay on the short sale. Capital gains, my ass. You figure, you lose your house, and that's the end of it. Oh, no - not 'round these capitalist parts, buddy. Here, we fuck you out of a home AND charge to 25% of the difference you didn't pay the bank during the sale.

But in a year or two, when SIL is out of school and the future is more secure, I'll still have my license and can foster then. In the meantime, the kid will have his uncle to take him to his sports after school/work, and two more adults to guide him in what's right. We'll have his nephew to hang out with and play. SIL can go to school in peace, without worrying about the mortgage, and Bro can take a deep breath knowing his family is provided for. Maybe I'll even get some of the bills paid down and can save for the IRS 1099 hit I'll take in 2009. Maybe I'll be able to join a gym or a dance class without feeling guilty for leaving the kid home alone.

But in the meantime, I guess this means I have to "know" we aren't "home" anymore, and prepare ourselves and our belongings to leave this place.

6:31 pm - 01.09.08
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