May 26, 2011

Come At Me Bro!

I slept my last weekend away.  Seriously.  I was maybe conscious 30% of the time. At the time, I thought it to be a waste, all those hours spent doing nothing.  However, in the last 24, I've learned that my rest was not so, it was a much needed recharge so I could continue to fight the battle for getting rid of my house through legal means, and not, oh, say, arson. (Kidding.  Sure, I've thought about it, but I'd never do it.)

I got a panicked phone call from my real estate agent saying that she'd gotten into a heated discussion with a drone at my bank.  They were claiming that they needed some information from me because my file with them asking for assistance in getting out of my house was incomplete.  If she didn't get it soon (with no definition of soon) she'd close the file and we'd have to start all over again.

Now, I understand why this is a bad thing for my agent.  The longer this sale takes, the longer it will be before she'd paid.  That hurts her right in the pocketbook.  It hurts the bank too because the longer my house is in limbo, the longer it will be before they see a profit.  Also, pain in the wallet.  On the other hand, their delays and threats to close the file actually helps me.  I can stay in the house that much longer and live rent free.  Sure, I'd prefer to be in a place with less emotional baggage, but I'll take free over anything, given the choice.

However, the forms need to be filled out eventually.  And my rest means my temper with all of this is less inflamed, so when I got the form in my email, I printed it, filled it out, and faxed it back to my agent within about 3 hours.  I also made sure that my ex knew this was critical.  On a scale of 1-10, this was an 11.  Now, I'd stayed at work to get this done, so I was leaving an hour later than normal, and traffic is much heavier at that time of night.  I had an obligation last night, so I wasn't willing to throw another curve ball at my schedule and wait for my ex to bring his paperwork back to my house so I could take it to work and fax it for him.  He's a grownup, he's perfectly able to make that happen on his own.  That didn't stop him from grumbling about it, but my opinion is that I've been dealing with the day to day of this since November.  I've uprooted my life enough times to get this going, he can be a little inconvenienced once, and told him as much.  Again, more grumbling, but I wasn't gonna budge.  Eventually, he caved.  I was told that he'd get everything filled out and faxed back to my agent in the morning.  Ok, that's a good enough turn around.  I think we can all live with that.


Fast forward to this morning.  I get a text message at 6:03 AM from my ex asking if I can stop by this morning and pick up his paperwork and deal with it since he has a migraine.  Perhaps it's my rarely indulged bitter streak that told him no.  My involvement with this has been much deeper than his; I've lived it for months.  I have been doing this alone.  He has his live in girlfriend he can lean on should he need it.  I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling all that sympathetic when all I need is a document to exchange hands.  I am putting this on him to find a way, and told him so.  We exchanged a few text messages where I stood my ground that he needs to be a man about this.  If he's unable to do that, at least be an adult.  Life isn't going to hold your hand or wipe your nose for you, so I certainly won't.  Not anymore.  That ended with the official "I don't" in October.

Next thing I know, I get a call.  Ok, fine.  I can tell him the same thing over the phone too, if he'd like.  In the end, I didn't back off from delegating this to him.  He hung up cranky, and I got a text message soon after saying that his girlfriend would run the paperwork by my agent's office later today.  Had I suggested that, it would have been extremely presumptuous and rejected on principle.  *shrug*  Que sera, sera.  In the end, what needed to be done is done.  I don't really care about the specifics and the hows of the execution at this point.

So, on to the next flaming hoop!  Whatever that may be.

*Editor's note.  Since published, the document in question has been delivered to my agent's office.  We should be able to get this to the bank by lunchtime.  My favorite part of this whole exchange?  Trading texts with Jenny about  how we'd like to tell the bank to stick that in their pipe and smoke it.  Have I mentioned I love my real estate lady?

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