(An aside: a little old lady once scolded Michael for a mild expletive by telling him that swearing is how a weak mind expresses itself forcefully. He politely told her to fuck off. This is one of the many reasons I have decided to keep him.)
Remember how we found a sweet little bungalow that we intended to rent with a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the house until we became more... um, employed? Yesterday we were notified that the owner of the house next door was taking legal action to correct what is allegedly an encroachment on an easement between our two homes. HUH? We bought this house from a developer (i.e., one of Satan's minions) A YEAR AGO, after it had been finished and on the market for MONTHS, sold it THREE WEEKS AGO, were FIVE DAYS from closing, and this opportunistic, calculating little motherfucker waited until NOW — and here's my favorite part — to CALL OUR REALTOR to let her know this might cause a problem with the sale. Gosh, do you think? I reacted the way any normal person would, by having a hissy fit and treating our realtor, a good friend, as if the entire thing were her fault.
My first thought was that we had to keep our buyers from backing out of the sale, because I owe our landlord a shitload of money at the beginning of next month. All I could focus on was that this lowlife prick deliberately waited until the house sold so that he could screw up the sale and have a little leverage. And thank God, because I NEEDED A LITTLE MORE FUCKING STRESS IN MY LIFE.
Then I realized I should figure out if there was any merit to his claims. So I dug up the paperwork from the sale and realized very quickly that I had absolutely no idea what any of the fucking words on the paper actually meant. All those documents you sign when you buy a house, while the escrow officer rattles off what each means faster than the list of possible side effects on a prescription medication commercial? No big deal that you scribble your signature without even pretending to read anything — until something goes wrong. I went to bed last night fuming that there are so many people involved in the sale of a house who make an obscene amount of money doing little more than pushing papers around, yet when there is a problem they all have their heads up there asses and their fingers pointing at someone else. The truth is, for a number of reasons, I am completely alone in this.
This morning I made an appointment to meet with a lawyer I can't afford, went and picked up the keys to a home we may not be able to rent, met with a mover we might not need, and finished up a punchlist of repairs on a house we probably can't sell. I'm tired, broke and wondering what the hell I did in a previous life that my karma is so fucked up. (All the swearing?) The rest of the day I spent being quietly furious and rude to people, on the phone and in person: the developer, the title company, the douchebag's lawyer, the people that rent the house, their dog, etc. Grace was all, "Mommy, you're not using your nice voice."
The neighbor's lawyer faxed a letter to my realtor, and she emailed it to me because I had yet to see anything in writing regarding the issue that is threatening to push me over the edge. Here's my favorite part:
"In order to preserve the value of my client's property, he must insist the property be put back in its previous condition which could include moving a portion of your house."
Moving the house was definitely not on the repairs addendum.