Today's Forecast: Partly cloudy, chance of early showers followed by Armageddon
Oh my fucking god, I have no idea where to begin.
Alright....well, to start with, I've secured financing for a mortgage and both found and signed a contract on a home. Happy, right?
Heh.
Monday: I go to sign the offer. In my inexperience in real estate transactions, I think this is just an offer letter, and leave Marian's name off it for expediency (she was otherwise occupied and it would have been...difficult for her to come up to sign the offer in an expedient manner).
Tuesday: The other people tentatively accept, giving a verbal contract. They should be signing the following day. I'm a bit nervous, but optimistic.
Wedneday: I go to work feeling more or less OK....left nostril is a bit funky. They sign the final contract and I will meet the realtor after work to sign. Note that I said "final contract" there. I begin to get feverish, have chills, and my nose is running like a sieve.
I figure that since I goofed and Marian's name got left off, to prevent any "rocking the boat" in regards to the deal I'd leave it as-is and just file a $100 Quit-claim deed after the fact to add Marian to the place. No harm, no foul....right?
A more incorrect statement has never been uttered. Well, maybe this one: General Custer: "I think we can take 'em."
After signing the contract and managing to drive home despite a 101-102 degree fever, I drink some OJ, pop a few Tylenol, and crash, hoping for a few hours' uninterrupted rest.
What I get is a friggen psycho hispanic woman calling me to tell me how she thinks her daughter shouldn't marry me, how we don't communicate, how I'm lying out my ass, and how I make the baby Jesus cry. Keep in mind that I can barely sit up at this point. I try a few logical arguments and reassurments to no avail. I offer to see if there is anything to be done to fix this prior to the sale--which may jeopardize the contract in this seller's market and make us lose the house. It's like talking to a wall, only the wall is in turn insulting your integrity. Marian is an emotional wreck from her mother verbally abusing her all day and at one point says she's not sure she should marry me.
Ok, that hurt.
I try to salvage the situation, calm Marian down, and get things back on track. Minimal success, but it's something. The realtor calls me and asks if I want her name on the title. I reply, not in so many words "hell fucking yes".
My father calls and offers some advice. I accept and thank him for it. Marian calls back and sounds more herself, apologizes for her earlier comments. I apologize in turn. The addendum is being drafted and sent to the realtor. I'll probably need to go sign it tomorrow; hopefully I recover enough to make the outing.
If there is one thing I'd like to do, is tell her mother to go straight to hell, do not pass Go. As it stands, she was offering up to 5K to help with the down payment and closing costs. I'm sorely tempted to just finance the damn thing myself--fuck her--and move on, but that might create nasty friction and more problems for Marian. Who is, at this moment, basically a hostage subject to daily verbal barrages and her mother's whims. I wish the closing date would just come already so I could pull her out of that abusive hell, but we need to wait to July before the other folks will vacate. Which sucks.
So, to sum up: Marian's mother is in full drama mode and is utterly irrational, the contract might be in jeopardy if the other people get cold feet with this addendum, I feel like utter, feverish shit, and I hope my marriage isn't in dire straits before it starts.
Happy day, happy day.
Alright....well, to start with, I've secured financing for a mortgage and both found and signed a contract on a home. Happy, right?
Heh.
Monday: I go to sign the offer. In my inexperience in real estate transactions, I think this is just an offer letter, and leave Marian's name off it for expediency (she was otherwise occupied and it would have been...difficult for her to come up to sign the offer in an expedient manner).
Tuesday: The other people tentatively accept, giving a verbal contract. They should be signing the following day. I'm a bit nervous, but optimistic.
Wedneday: I go to work feeling more or less OK....left nostril is a bit funky. They sign the final contract and I will meet the realtor after work to sign. Note that I said "final contract" there. I begin to get feverish, have chills, and my nose is running like a sieve.
I figure that since I goofed and Marian's name got left off, to prevent any "rocking the boat" in regards to the deal I'd leave it as-is and just file a $100 Quit-claim deed after the fact to add Marian to the place. No harm, no foul....right?
A more incorrect statement has never been uttered. Well, maybe this one: General Custer: "I think we can take 'em."
After signing the contract and managing to drive home despite a 101-102 degree fever, I drink some OJ, pop a few Tylenol, and crash, hoping for a few hours' uninterrupted rest.
What I get is a friggen psycho hispanic woman calling me to tell me how she thinks her daughter shouldn't marry me, how we don't communicate, how I'm lying out my ass, and how I make the baby Jesus cry. Keep in mind that I can barely sit up at this point. I try a few logical arguments and reassurments to no avail. I offer to see if there is anything to be done to fix this prior to the sale--which may jeopardize the contract in this seller's market and make us lose the house. It's like talking to a wall, only the wall is in turn insulting your integrity. Marian is an emotional wreck from her mother verbally abusing her all day and at one point says she's not sure she should marry me.
Ok, that hurt.
I try to salvage the situation, calm Marian down, and get things back on track. Minimal success, but it's something. The realtor calls me and asks if I want her name on the title. I reply, not in so many words "hell fucking yes".
My father calls and offers some advice. I accept and thank him for it. Marian calls back and sounds more herself, apologizes for her earlier comments. I apologize in turn. The addendum is being drafted and sent to the realtor. I'll probably need to go sign it tomorrow; hopefully I recover enough to make the outing.
If there is one thing I'd like to do, is tell her mother to go straight to hell, do not pass Go. As it stands, she was offering up to 5K to help with the down payment and closing costs. I'm sorely tempted to just finance the damn thing myself--fuck her--and move on, but that might create nasty friction and more problems for Marian. Who is, at this moment, basically a hostage subject to daily verbal barrages and her mother's whims. I wish the closing date would just come already so I could pull her out of that abusive hell, but we need to wait to July before the other folks will vacate. Which sucks.
So, to sum up: Marian's mother is in full drama mode and is utterly irrational, the contract might be in jeopardy if the other people get cold feet with this addendum, I feel like utter, feverish shit, and I hope my marriage isn't in dire straits before it starts.
Happy day, happy day.