Appraisals and Paint and Potential Estate

You know an update is complex when the real estate agent texts that they need to talk. You know it's urgent when they text early in the morning. My heart sank when I saw the message. I was outside, having a cigarette, and feeling rather alone.

Did the sellers decide on a different buyer? Did the house burn down? Was the survey drastically different than what was platted on the cadastral map? My hands were shaking as I dialed her number.

All the stuff on our end looks good, she said. The underwriters are waiting on that survey. And the recent appraiser, unlike the first appraiser, went full-on batshit over minor stuff.

The paint outside, on the steps and rail, needed to be painted again because there were flakes coming off. The basement walls showed old issues, so they needed painting. An outlet in the basement wasn't GFCI. The basement had drainage problems.

Bullshit. My agent called the gents that inspected the house, and they will fire off a letter to the appraiser stating that there are no signs of leaking, and all basements out here can get damp. The outlet will get a plate over it. We can convert it back after the sale.

The sellers are concerned about the paint. I offered to go in and paint stuff, since I'm going to paint the basement anyway. And that's when we got around to that update and why we needed to talk.

I already knew that the family built the house, and that the deed was passed to the grandson. My agent explained that the grandson has an inoperable brain tumor. He went to hospice. The brother-in-law offered to be the POA. That explains why the latter is on all the contracts.

My heart broke. What a terrible thing to go through. His sister must be beside herself with worry and grief.

My agent confirmed that, and then dropped the bombshell. The brother-in-law just found out he has cancer. It's a fast-spreader. He might pass away this month.

My thoughts lept to what that sister is now enduring. To lose a brother and a spouse so soon? What was left of my heart shattered even more.

My agent began to explain that, if both die before closing, the house would fold into an estate, and the contract is still valid but it could push that closing into next month.

I told her that I don't give two fucks about when we close. I was more worried that the sister had to deal with the appraisal issues on her own.

"I can go in and paint," I said.

"She's probably been there since 6:30 painting it," my agent replied.

This woman went to house before sunrise to take care of all this shit?!

"I mean it," I insisted. "You tell them, put some burden on me. I can paint. I can buy a GFCI outlet and install it for them."

I told her that I'm available for whatever they need. Cancer is cancer. It's imperative that the caregivers use their downtime to regroup themselves, not paint paint shit to placate an appraiser. I offered to help the sister. If she needed anything beyond house stuff, have her call me.

The agent told me that this is why they decided to sell to us. We are good people to them. They really like us.

We wrapped up the call. My mother had come out while we were speaking. She heard much of my end of the conversation.

"Bad news?" her brows knit together.

I explained what was going on. We then sat in silence a while, both of us remembering how difficult it had been for us to keep our energy up when consumed by grief over my dad's impending death.

The moment passed. We swept tears from the corners of our eyes. Jeff came out and I explained the situation to him. He was completely understanding.

Moving to this house will be a new lease on life for us, but it shouldn't come at the expense of another's peace of mind.

I will attend both funerals out of respect. And I will pray that their passing is gentle.