F'ing Finally!
Well, folks, I think (I hope, I cross my fingers that I am not jinxing myself by writing this sentence) that it's all over. I just heard this morning that the sellers of the house we'd like to buy, and are deep in to negotiations with the mortgage company about, have agreed to take less than our formerly agreed upon price, based on the low assessment. It's taken about a week to get to this accord (think Yalta), but here we are.
It occurs to me that there are two ways of looking at this all-consuming, debacle of a summer project that we've engaged in.
1) If you subscribe to some sort of deterministic, happy-go-lucky, faith-based universe, someone could argue that this has all turned out for the best. Despite the fact that we are selling our house for less than we think it's worth (and, perhaps, at a loss, given what we've done to it in the past 5 years), the price reduction on the new house will actually give us a narrow margin of overage that is the beginning of a renovation budget. Or, in the eternal response of my parents: it all worked out in for the best, right? Well, sure, if you don't count the hours of sobbing and nail-biting, and my continued intense hatred of the buyers of our house. [Just between us: I'm far more lax about spills on the carpet than I was a month ago. It may even be the case that a small yacked-up hairball sat in a corner of the carpet for a day or two before I did something about it. And in the meantime, the weeds continue to grow, because I'll be damned if I'm going to expend one ounce of energy on behalf of the buyers. Note to future homeowners of America: it's not the best idea to piss off the people who are going to live in "your" house for a month before you settle.]
2) If you subscribe to an O.Henry, pain-is-entertainment universe of dramatic irony, however, I'll simply note that we've resolved our summer housing project on precisely the last weekday before I go back to teaching.
Choose your own adventure, kids. I'm tempted to spend the day doing whatever I damn well please as a sad substitute for the past two months of summer that I've missed out on.
It occurs to me that there are two ways of looking at this all-consuming, debacle of a summer project that we've engaged in.
1) If you subscribe to some sort of deterministic, happy-go-lucky, faith-based universe, someone could argue that this has all turned out for the best. Despite the fact that we are selling our house for less than we think it's worth (and, perhaps, at a loss, given what we've done to it in the past 5 years), the price reduction on the new house will actually give us a narrow margin of overage that is the beginning of a renovation budget. Or, in the eternal response of my parents: it all worked out in for the best, right? Well, sure, if you don't count the hours of sobbing and nail-biting, and my continued intense hatred of the buyers of our house. [Just between us: I'm far more lax about spills on the carpet than I was a month ago. It may even be the case that a small yacked-up hairball sat in a corner of the carpet for a day or two before I did something about it. And in the meantime, the weeds continue to grow, because I'll be damned if I'm going to expend one ounce of energy on behalf of the buyers. Note to future homeowners of America: it's not the best idea to piss off the people who are going to live in "your" house for a month before you settle.]
2) If you subscribe to an O.Henry, pain-is-entertainment universe of dramatic irony, however, I'll simply note that we've resolved our summer housing project on precisely the last weekday before I go back to teaching.
Choose your own adventure, kids. I'm tempted to spend the day doing whatever I damn well please as a sad substitute for the past two months of summer that I've missed out on.
posted by kfluff at 9:52 AM
1 Comments:
glad it's finally over, sheesh!
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