it’s like we won the lottery

I emailed our realtor today, going “Dude, wtf, is the bank ever going to sign the fucking acceptance? I’m going a little crazy over here.” Or, y’know, words to that effect.

A little while later, she phoned me up to say she’d called the listing agent, who said, “Hmmm … let me check my email … oh, would you look at this? I got the acceptance yesterday. Don’t I feel like a dumbass now.” Or words to that effect.

So you know what this means, right? Unless there’s something seriously wrong with it and we have to do some more screaming crying haggling, WE GOT THE HOUSE.

Ten months, y’all. Ten months we’ve been looking for a house, driving all over hell’s half-acre to see houses, bidding on houses, agonizing over houses, eating, breathing, dreaming houses, and we finally got one.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, until I exhaled.

Sadly, this is not the end of the problems. The contract shows a closing date only ten days before our show in Missouri, which Will Not Work. Our realtor & mortgage guy are pulling all the strings they can to change that date. Fingers still firmly crossed.

not quite a real update

So we were supposed to be doing the inspection on our would-be house this morning. At this moment, I should have been following the inspectors around, looking for wonkiness and figuring out how old the a/c unit is and stuff, but no.

See, two weeks ago, we put in offers on three houses. One (the hideous kitchen one) countered our offer with a higher one, at which we laughed. One (a nice, big one in a lovely neighborhood) got in a higher offer, so we lost.

One, though, countered our offer with a price a little higher than we wanted to go, so we countered again, lower, and then got their counter-counter-offer, which we accepted. We signed the “yes, we really want this” paperwork, but … we’ve not yet gotten their “yes, ok, we’ll sign, too” paperwork.

So we’re waiting. But, with any kind of luck, we’ll be getting the Good News some time this week.

dig these awesome baseboards

It’s a pretty nice, newer house in Gilbert, a bit on the small side but still a little bigger than our current rental, kinda boring but work-with-able, y’know? Also, I’m in love with the baseboards in the downstairs rooms. It’s the little things that matter.

Accordingly, for the 48,847,584th time, keep your fingers crossed, would you?

things I have learned recently

Things I have learned recently, a list.

  • If you marinate drained and pressed tofu slices in Sweet Vanilla Chili Sauce, then coat it in cornstarch and fry in a teeny bit of oil until golden brown and delicious, it tastes exactly like slightly spicy toasted marshmallows. Wild! It’s totally not a marinade & now I know why.
  • 32 minutes is far too much time to lose talking to stupid people, but I appreciate the story it gave me. Seriously, did not need to spend five minutes hearing about dude’s thyroid, whilst on a call ostensibly about dude’s spam. Seriously.
  • It is entirely possible to take the news of one’s ninth offer on a house being outbid without growling, throwing things or getting even slightly teary-eyed. That which doesn’t kill us, etc.
  • It is also possible to create a list about cool, annoying and frustrating things without resorting to caps or italics even once. Go me!

fear and loathing

Loki and I are fucking doomed.

Let’s see where we are, shall we?

8: the total number of houses we’ve offered on since October
4: outbid-on (by $1,000 to $70,000)
1: rejected by owner as too low (and then was foreclosed-on, HAH)
1: the bank foreclosed on rather than accept our offer
1: we still haven’t heard back on, and I’m not holding my fucking breath

But the big one? The one that made our realtor cry when she told me on the phone today? The one that’s given me a headache from trying not to cry at work?

1 – rejected by the bank in favor of A LOWER OFFER.

I just don’t even know what to do anymore. I have no back-up plan. There are no other houses on the market that look even marginally suitable. There are no new builds in areas in which we’d care to live. The entire fucking real estate market seems to be conspiring to stop us owning a house, and I’m out of ideas.

I’m gonna sing the doom song now

You totally know what’s coming, right?

From our fabulous realtor, regarding Mesa House:

It is so sad how the banks are working. Unfortunately, we cannot submit the offer again, because without the seller signing the promissory note, the bank is not moving forward with the offer. The seller has no money and cannot sign that note. The bank is firm with that request and is letting the home foreclose. The selling date is in September [Ed. note: omgwtf September] and until than the home will stay vacant.

This, my friends, is why the housing market is not turning around: even with a great offer, the bank is refusing it because they want their pound of flesh from the poor owners, too.

So, Saturday, we’re resuming our hunt in earnest — except this time? No fucking short sales*. Happily, there are some interesting ones, and they’re not all in BFE Gilbert — just most of them. On the plus side, as more and more of the failed short sales get foreclosed upon, there will be more and more REOs** available, which is all to the good.

This will be the last house-hunt post for a while, ’cause frankly, I need to move my focus away from this Never-ending House Hunt of Fucking Doom. Expect more pictures of the cats or something.

* For those of you to whom I have not explained this jolly concept, it means the house is selling for less than what’s owed on the mortgage. Also, there are two kinds: those in which the bank has already approved the short sale, and those in which the bank has not. Guess which ours was?

** REOs : essentially bank-owned, post-foreclosure properties. We heart these.

why is this so hard?

So you’ve got a bucket of money, right? Or, your bank’s money, anyway.

You say, “I’d like to buy your house, for exactly what you want for it, no haggling, totally not trying to buy the house for twenty-five cents and a copy of our album or anything.” Their bank says, “Just one moment while we crunch some numbers.”

Seventy-one days pass, or roughly 94,873,449 moments.

The other bank then says, “Y’know what? I know you want to buy this house and all, but really? We’re having way too much fun making the lives of the current owners a LIVING HELL, so rather than cut short all that fun, we’re going to reject your offer and foreclose on the house.”

And then they add, “But keep your eyes peeled, ’cause it’ll probably be back on the market in three weeks for less money. Oh, and we’ll respond to your offer in 48 hours.”

Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause I’m completely fucking flabbergasted by the entire exchange.

The Gilbert house, on the other hand, is … well … apparently following the same script. It’s been 49 days since our 30-day-response offer went in, and the listing agent for that one hasn’t heard a peep from that bank.

Oh, it’s a buyer’s market, all right — even more so if you’re, say, fucking immortal and can really take the long view on things.

too many notes

I’m in a weird place right now.

I feel paralyzed, waiting to hear back on the damn house (64 days and counting) and I feel like I’m treading water. Part of me thinks I should knock out the rest of the packing, but even if we hear today (not likely) we’ll still have probably 30 days until we close. So I’m waiting.

I feel stressy about work. Things are just being dumped on me and it’s annoying. Spam stuff, software licensing stuff, not-my-job stuff. And in the meantime, it’s been pressing on my mind that I haven’t had time to do the things I was told to do at my last review. Innovate? When, fuckers?

I feel happy to be listening to the soon-to-come Raul and the Reptiles Doug Preston and the Reptiles Riding Giants Low Men album. It’s excellent, and not just because Stupid Head (yay) is on it. I’m glad Mr. M-F.P. didn’t tweak it any more; it sounds polished, but with a slight, festive undercurrent of raw passion that is the main appeal of the Low Men, in my mind.

I cannot wait for the three-day weekend. I violently need to recharge and have some down time and some time with my loverest and some friend time and some open-mic time — Loki, Doug & Toby will be belting out the acoustic goodness at the Yucca Taproom on Monday, and you should totally come.

In the meantime, I’ll be over here, trying to hold it together.