In our last episode of The Great House Hunt 2022, "Too Pissed Off to Keep Trying"...
Wait, this was just a few days ago? Since then, I've eaten Ensure and bread, and only because my meds need to be taken with food, and even then it wasn't much help because, like it or not, I ended up in the damn ER anyway. I was shitting my pills out. Solid. As in they weren't being digested. At all.
Lost 14 pounds and got a port flush. Feh. Autoimmune is autoimmune.
The agent called at 7:59 this morning. She must have been hovering until business hours began. She wanted an update. And to see if I could please send in the stuff requested last week.
I was stuck in Pittsburgh most of today. I asked my mother to call her bank regarding the cleared check. I gathered everything into an email when I got home.
Simply put:
There isn't any legal reason for my mother to share
her financial information: she is not the person under contract. She
hasn't any vested interest in the property nor will the property be recognized as belonging to her.
It's like that time they wanted to know why I was moving to a smaller house. What an odd thing to ask. My answers varied between "I am too ill to use stairs safely" to "I don't want to be homeless". Maybe I should have said, "The Estranged One agreed to buy this house and use his money to pay the mortgage provided he doesn't have to pay fuel or electric, and thus he would not be shot into the Sun or eaten by gophers."
Do they even have gophers out here? Hm. Maybe groundhogs work better. That aside, I wouldn't say the latter at all.
Regardless, the lender finally accepted my reasoning and kicked it all back to the underwriters. We all will await approval, which should come on Friday.
How many weeks in a row have they said the same exact thing?
The grass needs a mow. The plumber is coming by tomorrow to work on Mum's toilet and shower - they are leaking somehow and somewhere. I can't step away just because I feel like shit. Things must be done, damnit!
