We were gonna sell our house but because we run a business our taxes make it look like we make practically no dollars a year in spite of our perfect payment record with our current mortgage and so we were unable to get pre-approved for an adequate loan and then a bunch of other stuff happened that we hoped would fix the problem and then didn't and then we did some other stuff that we thought would fix the problem and we just found out today that it did. So, that's awesome.
It was God at work in a big way. I believe He means to teach us patience and faith and how to be content. We're slow learners.
Most of you have probably bought and/or sold a home at some point so I'm not going to go into all of the irritating headaches. The house we live in is only our second home. I'm not pretending to be an expert, but let me just say this: We first called our Realtor on April 26. We still don't have a sign in our front yard. It has taken us twenty (20) days to get pre-approved for a loan. Step one (1). Twenty (20) days. That's about nineteen (19) days longer than we thought it would take, than it should have taken. None of this is our Realtor's fault and we're not looking for someone else to take the reigns, so just back the eff up Troy Wieland.
Step Two: Selling our house.
Step two (2) should be a breeze. You hear stories all the time about how people find a buyer on their second or third day on the market. Happens all the time. Nobody ever has trouble finding a buyer. Never.
I'd rather not talk about steps three (3) or four (4).
Step Five: Move in!
And to make up for such an incredibly long pause between posts, here's a very short story I wrote for the Ferocious blog which probably won't get posted because I kinda think Nate, the guy in charge, either didn't like it or is really busy right now. So you guys can read it here for free... instead of on the Ferocious web-site which is also free.
The Switch
I wish someone would have told me how hard it is being a father and a husband. Skinned knees and hurt feelings are part of my everyday life, but this kind of decision-making... I hate it.
Beth and I bought our first house right after we got married. We spent months painting and selecting furniture until our house was perfect. One day, Beth started getting sick every morning and craving weird things.
We turned my home office into a nursery and I moved my desk and computer and bookshelves out into the garage. Several months later we had a fat baby boy and named him Jake. We baby-proofed and repainted and rearranged until our house was perfect. Then, a few years later, Beth started getting sick again and craving weird things again.
We turned Beth's craft-room into a nursery and moved her craft table and sewing machine and scrapbooks out into the garage, next to all of my stuff. Several months later we had a fat baby girl and named her Mary. We re-baby-proofed and repainted and rearranged until our house was perfect. Then, a few years later... Jo. A girl Jo.
Buying a house is no treat, especially while trying to sell one at the same time. It's all about timing and when you've got three kids, one still the general size and shape of a larvae, it's almost impossible to live a normal life. Naps are interrupted by showings. Meals are interrupted by showings. Showers, movie-nights, play-dates...
Your whole life comes to a complete halt just so some nosy stranger can poke around your home and make snide remarks about the decor. And they have no appreciation for the amount of work that you put in to the house to make it as ambiguous and subtly appealing as possible. Half of the pictures on your wall have to come down and you have to patch all of the little nail holes and paint. Now, collect half of the toys in the kids' rooms and box them up. They can go in the attic for a few months. The toys, not the kids. And remember those tall bushes you planted at the back of the house so you wouldn't have to watch your fat neighbor make his morning coffee in his underwear? Rip 'em out.
That stuff is nothing compared to THIS kind of tense situation.
We finally sold the house. Beth cried as we pulled away which started Jake crying which started Mary crying. Jo was already crying. She's only six-months old. And the drive across town seemed to take forever, mostly because my brother-in-law, who was supposed to be following us in the moving van, disappeared somewhere near the mall. I called his cell-phone, but it started ringing from the back seat of our van. Jake had been playing with it. So, we had to backtrack to make sure everything was okay. We found my brother-in-law and the moving van wedged under a drive-through awning.
Finally at the new house, we went inside and tried to open the garage door, but for some reason it wasn't working. It worked just fine when we had the inspection, but whatever. I just wanted to get everything unloaded. Beth ordered pizza while her brother and I unloaded box after box after box and Jake and Mary raced around our legs playing a new game that involves getting stepped on.
In the process of moving in, Beth discovered a wasp nest under the back porch, her brother dislodged the dryer vent with his fat head, Jake discovered that someone had clogged the toilet (a gift from the previous owners), and Mary announced that the basement walls are filled with cotton candy, but it doesn't taste very good. After finding the wasp-spray, plunger, and duct-tape, and after Beth rushed Mary to the ER (nothing to worry about, we were told), we finally finished unloading and sent Beth's brother to return the van. I have no idea if he made it. I don't really care.
None of that was really even an issue, not like this.
The kids' rooms are a mess with furniture and boxes. The kitchen is littered with empty soda cans and pizza boxes. Jo is curled up in an empty drawer, finally asleep. Beth made a bed out of blankets and pillows and fell right asleep. Jake and Mary watched a movie in the living room and are curled up in their sleeping bags, clutching one another. I can see them breathing softly from where I stand at the kitchen sink. The boxes all around the kitchen have things written on them like "Beth's stupid kitchen crap," or "stuff the Goodwill wouldn't take." Her brother won't be helping us with our next move.
The big problem, the one that has pretty much been the cherry on top of this sundae, is that I need a drink of water. I need one very badly. And seeing as none of the boxes are labeled appropriately, I'm going to have to do some digging in order to find a glass. I can't turn on the overhead light in the kitchen because it might wake up Jake and Mary. So I'm standing here in front of the kitchen sink looking at two switches. One will turn on the small light above the sink and one will turn on the monstrous garbage disposal beneath the sink. I have no idea which switch is which and I feel like crying.No one told me how hard all of this was going to be.
Thank you,
Matt Beers
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