Monday, March 08, 2004
sigh (full stop)
Without getting into too many boring details, I will just say: being yanked around by a mortgage company for six months? Sucks. Loan consultants who allegedly do not get messages (no matter how many we leave or which phone we leave them on), do not call when they say they will, act as if they are doing us a favor by doing their job? Frustrate me to no end. Damn it, we just want somewhere to live. That's all.
And, lesson learned which I will share for the world to enjoy: say someone sells you a piece of land and gets it all set up for your house. Say your land is on a wooded lot, and say a lot of trees have to be cleared before the lot is ready for said house. Maybe you talk to the guy who sold you the land and discuss what will be done with the cut-down trees, and maybe he says that he has no problem leaving them on the site, that that's what they do anyway, and that sure, you will have more than enough firewood to last you a long long time because the trees will be left on the lot. Get it in writing or I will personally come over and kick your ass. We did not get it in writing. (Ben and I have learned a lot of things over the past six months, and most of these lessons have come about as a result of us putting too much faith in other people.) So this is what happens when you don't get it in writing: one week, you go to look at your land, and you look at the piles of trees around you and decide that you really only need one pile for firewood, and you can sell the other two giant stacks of good quality hardwood to get a little cash. When you find out that you're going to have to come up with some money for another land payment because the loan that was supposed to take it over still hasn't been closed on because you're being yanked around by a mortage company, you take comfort in the fact that those giant stacks of wood should get you enough money to make that payment. (The land pays for itself! It's a beautiful thing.) You take a trip that weekend to relax and look at the land and remember what all this stress is about: a little house in the woods. You get there and are confused; there are no logs. Anywhere. Not even a little stack left for firewood. NOTHING.
Ah, I'm getting tired of the third-person stuff. We got really pissed off and tried to figure out what had happened. Had a neighbor sold it? Had the contractor who cleared the land decided to make a quick buck and sold it himself? We called A, the guy who sold us the land and organized the clearing and everything, and asked him. "Oh, I thought you said you didn't want anything left on the land." Oh my god. Are you kidding? "I might be doing too many jobs at once and getting confused." This is a joke, right? "If you guys want, I can send you a pile of wood from another lot I'm clearing." Hahahahaha. It's brilliant, I will give him that. He sells about $600 worth of good hardwood and gives us a pile of cheap wood to replace it. And since we didn't get it in writing, there's nothing we can do but chalk it up to another expensive lesson learned.
Man, 2004 has been a really crappy year so far.
And, lesson learned which I will share for the world to enjoy: say someone sells you a piece of land and gets it all set up for your house. Say your land is on a wooded lot, and say a lot of trees have to be cleared before the lot is ready for said house. Maybe you talk to the guy who sold you the land and discuss what will be done with the cut-down trees, and maybe he says that he has no problem leaving them on the site, that that's what they do anyway, and that sure, you will have more than enough firewood to last you a long long time because the trees will be left on the lot. Get it in writing or I will personally come over and kick your ass. We did not get it in writing. (Ben and I have learned a lot of things over the past six months, and most of these lessons have come about as a result of us putting too much faith in other people.) So this is what happens when you don't get it in writing: one week, you go to look at your land, and you look at the piles of trees around you and decide that you really only need one pile for firewood, and you can sell the other two giant stacks of good quality hardwood to get a little cash. When you find out that you're going to have to come up with some money for another land payment because the loan that was supposed to take it over still hasn't been closed on because you're being yanked around by a mortage company, you take comfort in the fact that those giant stacks of wood should get you enough money to make that payment. (The land pays for itself! It's a beautiful thing.) You take a trip that weekend to relax and look at the land and remember what all this stress is about: a little house in the woods. You get there and are confused; there are no logs. Anywhere. Not even a little stack left for firewood. NOTHING.
Ah, I'm getting tired of the third-person stuff. We got really pissed off and tried to figure out what had happened. Had a neighbor sold it? Had the contractor who cleared the land decided to make a quick buck and sold it himself? We called A, the guy who sold us the land and organized the clearing and everything, and asked him. "Oh, I thought you said you didn't want anything left on the land." Oh my god. Are you kidding? "I might be doing too many jobs at once and getting confused." This is a joke, right? "If you guys want, I can send you a pile of wood from another lot I'm clearing." Hahahahaha. It's brilliant, I will give him that. He sells about $600 worth of good hardwood and gives us a pile of cheap wood to replace it. And since we didn't get it in writing, there's nothing we can do but chalk it up to another expensive lesson learned.
Man, 2004 has been a really crappy year so far.
