Last Ditch EffortJuly 31, 2009 at 11:33 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
Later I thought about the last episode of Buffy in season four entitled "Restless." If you want to see an accurate portrayal of dreams in a TV show, that’s it. And there was something about cheese slices in it, so I wonder if they’re connected somehow.
Yesterday, my loan was in the final stages. Today, it is complete. More or less.
Let’s relive the process in 1080p. Quite a while back–no, actually further back–I got my house on CPW refinanced in my name only, part of the divorce. Remember this constant, this will come into play in all the future dealings: because of my credit. BOMC.
I got refinanced, but BOMC the big boss wanted me to refi within a year’s time…so that I would be off of a bank loan. They wanted me in one they could sell, and be rid of me. It made me feel…hmmm. Not special. What’s the opposite of special?
That year was up earlier this spring. I put it off, put it off, put it off. No real reason, except following my motto: Carpe Diem Cras. "Seize the day. Tomorrow." But I was basically done moving from one house to the other, then the legality of the inspections, blah-blah-blah, so it was time. First I went to Chris, the boss, with my idea and proposal. He said, okay, let’s move forward with that. I thanked him for not recommending time travel into the past.
Bunny helped me out, but perhaps too much. My loan evolved several times BOMC. I thought it was good, but I actually had a late payment on my home equity, recently. I didn’t intend to, it just sorta happened. That blew the whole fucking thing. I could no longer do FHA, not for another year. What I had to accept was a 3-1 ARM. This is not the best time to do this. On the bright side, my interest rate will never go above 13 percent.
I wanted some cash out for personal stuff, plus needed cash out for other things related to the loan–taxes, insurance, title fees, closing, et cetera. My requests for money were incrementally shot down. Eventually they "compromised" with me. Meaning, they bent me over but agreed not to shove the *entire* Louisville Slugger up my ass.
The final deal, henceforth called the Missouri Compromise, put my entire new house plus half interest in my old house up for hock for the loan. In exchange, I get a brand new loan at a brand new higher interest rate, which pays off my old loan, the back taxes and so forth, and pays for a few things that THEY will cut the checks for, because, thanks to input from my best friend Bunny, I am deemed incompetent to handle my own money.
I am a little pissed about it. It’s one thing for them to limit the money they give me; they’re giving me the loan, that’s their right. But the scant little money they are giving me I had to provide receipts and bills for–proof that I was actually going to spend the money on what I said I was going to spend the money on. I don’t appreciate being treated like a child.
I was put through the usual hurdles: get me this document, that information, this piece of paper. Are you now, or have you ever been–?
Finally the day arrived. Yesterday, that is. The entire loan package was assembled, and a perk–since I’m a trusted employee–I got to take it home to read and sign everything. Just bring it back this morning, and they will notarize the necessary things. Obviously not exactly "legal" in the strictest sense of the word, but it’s all tender, since it’s only my name on the docs.
I worked last night at Domino’s, and during our slow time, I read the file. And got a shock.
My payment is about 200 dollars more than the already high number that I had been prepared for.
I read the entire thing, not signing. I just want to understand what the hell is going on. Calculator in hand, here we go.
The long and short of it is, since I have BOTH homes on the loan in a cross collateral deal that would make the Treaty of Versailles cringe, taxes and insurance for both houses are escrowed. Both. Fuck.
So, before I get bent out of shape, let’s examine the positives. Uhm. Hmm. Well.
Okay, in theory, it should only be for a year, until that late payment I had is over a year old, then I can refinance FHA.
Unless I have another late, or unless I can’t refi FHA, or what if interest is so wildly out of control by then that 13 is actually a good rate?
At least I don’t have to worry about the taxes and insurance on my sister’s house for a while.
Because I’ll be paying them. I now have incentive to help her get a better job, so she can pay me. That’s her, and Alex, and Mike, and Brandon, and my sister.
The house is finally in my name. So, done with the stress, right?