Monday we find out whether or not we will be approved for our 1970s dream home. The mortgage process is a dreadful thing. We’ve never felt so degraded in our lives, and that’s really saying something when you consider I used to work at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I’ve bought homes in the past, but that was pre-internet, and, more importantly, before the housing bubble burst and half the country went into foreclosure. It’s been a long time since I’ve purchased real estate, but from what I remember of the process it goes something like this:
- Find house you like, or a house you are already living in that someone wants to sell to you.
- Imagine how the house would look if only the previous owners hadn’t done those terrible things to it, and bid accordingly. Or, fight with your husband about the presence of tarantulas in the home, and then let him bid accordingly and against your will.
- Sign some kind of papers and wait, then give some people money.
- Move in. Except in the case that the house is filled with tarantulas, in which case, move out.
Until these last three hellish months, the worst real estate catastrophe that ever happened to me involved the city coming very close to refusing to let us move into our newly purchased home because we couldn’t afford to have central heat installed–in Southern California. After threatening to live in a tent in the front yard, they left us alone. Whose yard can I camp out in this time to make it stop???
Now the real estate process is a lot more involved. If I could count the hours we have devoted to the process as billable hours and present the mortgage company with the bill, it would pay for the house. We had to give them my W2s from 2007. We had to let them monitor our bank accounts continuously for months, so now they are well-aware they are selling the house to drunks who can’t be bothered to cook at home. We had to give them notarized copies of the footprints of all of our newborns–even the one who is 26 now–video footage of every crime we’ve ever committed, even the ones that didn’t result in a conviction, and blood and hair samples. Tomorrow I have to pose for nudes, and of course they want those notarized, too.
So Monday we get our answer, one way or another. We have already agreed that if this house falls through, we are just going to rent. I hear you only have to give urine samples and pose topless for that.