On buying and selling a house.

Our house went on the market and we got an offer fairly quickly.  We rejected the offer from the first couple. I was disappointed since I was hoping for a nice family or young married couple. That would have been a good match for the neighborhood.  When we got a second offer that seemed good from a young single man, we accepted that offer hoping he would grow up to be a good match for the neighborhood.

The same day our house went on the market a really good house for us went up for sale. We went to look it along with several others and found it to be the best of the lot. We put in an offer and it was accepted.

Renovating a house is a special kind of hell and stress.  Selling a house is a special kind of hell and stress.  Buying another house, aka applying for a mortgage is a special kind of hell and stress.  These things put unimaginable stress on a relationship and on oneself. We’ve been going through all of the above in one form or another.

We did our due diligence and began jumping through the hoops required to get a mortgage. Many things were illogical and emotionally painful but we were getting through them and providing the documents we need to provide.

Then two things happened:

The buyer of our house accused us of being liars claiming that we should have disclosed pet damage on the carpets that we didn’t know existed.  You had to use a black light to see them. We had planned on shampooing the carpets before moving out but everything had happened so quickly we didn’t get around to it. He demanded that we lower the price of the house or he was going to back out of the deal. We knew that this would mess up getting the new house that we loved so we gave in to his extortion. He disregarded all the care and effort we had put into our adorable house. My realtor took the buyers side, saying this was a reasonable request. I felt abused and betrayed and beaten. So many times I’ve imagined telling him to take a hike.

As we began to get over that we ran into another snag. We lost the W2 forms from 2014 and the mortgage company wants them. The mortgage company contacted David’s work for income verification and instead of asking David’s boss for the numbers, the guy in charge of that sort of thing asked David for the numbers. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.  He said it would be quicker to search our storage unit (this could take days) than to try to get the numbers out of the boss.

We searched all our papers and were afraid that we were going to have to search the storage unit even though I knew the forms wouldn’t be there.  They have been lost at some point in between filing taxes and packing thing into storage.  We asked the guy to please ask the boss anyway. The boss refused saying, “he had too much on his plate”. I was able to find a number from the tax return and submitted that. Hopefully we won’t need the actual W2 form. So far, this hasn’t messed up our mortgage application but we’re devastated. A man that supposedly loves us, who calls himself our friend, who has worked with David for over a decade, can’t be bothered to take 30 seconds to email a form.  Or print out a piece of paper.  This is a tiny company of 4 people. There isn’t anyone else to ask for this form.

I’ve decided that we must be doing something right to cause Satan, the great adversary, to stir up the heart of a normally good man against us.

Our application has gone to underwriting and we should hear soon if we’re going to be okay anyway. There have been some other uncomfortable things but this betrayal by a friend has been the worst so far.

There have been so many sleepless nights and endless tears. This has been such a horrible experience that I’m struggling to be happy, grateful, and positive about possibly moving into such a beautiful home that will fit all of us so much better than where we are.  I’m afraid to even post pictures of the new house in case it all blows up somehow and we have to start over.

In an attempt to conquer that fear, I’m doing it anyway.



It’s not perfect, but it’s so close and so lovely that I found myself not caring about the things that weren’t quite right. The imperfections are even kind of amusing.  I got to meet the current lady of the house and she is a delightful woman.  She showed us around and talked about the improvements she’d made over the years.  I could see in her manner and hear in her voice the love she has for this house and much of her soul she’s put into it.  I’m honored to able to move to a place like this. I made sure she got the praise and admiration I wanted from our own buyer. It felt good to be able to treat someone better than I had been treated.

The ugliness stops with us. It will not be passed on.

In an attempt to conquer disappointment, I finished a  dishcloth and made a few more brightly colored blanket squares.  The colors lift my spirits. I even put a couple of rows into my mother’s shawl. It felt good to be working on it, I should work on it more often.

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