The Great House Hunt: Too Pissed Off to Keep Trying
EXERCISE IN FUTILITY
Definition of exercise in futility
I haven't eaten more than a mouthful today. Same for yesterday. Same for yesterday's yesterday. I'm swallowing odansetron like a black hole. Not a single day has gone by since Tuesday where I've managed to not shit myself.
The bank wants this. The bank wants that. Here's a hoop, there's a hoop, everywhere there's a hoop hoop. I forget what they wanted yesterday. All I know is that I'm in no mental position to wrap any thoughts around it, and so... I dunno. I really don't. Yesterday was a crap shoot (pun intended).
The bank loan people demanded that I pay our truck off earlier than planned. No worries. I have those funds. Done!
The bank loan people said there wasn't enough funds in the account to close. What? Fine. My mother had already offered to loan us $2k towards down.
The bank wanted to see that $2500 in my account. Fine, fill out two separate "gift" forms. Deposit check at credit union.
The banked wanted to see the check. Oh for fuck's sake! I had to ask her to write a new check so we could copy it.
The bank wanted to know if the transaction cleared her account. It did.
The bank wanted her bank to tell them that her check to me had cleared her bank.
I exploded. There is no fucking reason for my mother to provide that information. None. I lost my shit today.
I don't care if the home would be a single story with all appliances and the washer and dryer on the first floor. I don't care that the roof is awesome and the structure goes beyond any I've viewed thus far. I don't care if the damn dog screams at me going doing the stairs here. I don't care that the plumbing here is about to die. I don't care if all my stuff remains in storage. I can't keep doing this bank shit.