The past 23 days, since I discovered the “ploy” being used by the mortgage company to rip our home out from under us, have been some of the most stressful days in my entire life.
The first couple days were filled with calls to the mortgage company “trying to work it out”. The next week was spent contacting attorneys in our area to see if we could stop the fiasco before it reached the point of no return. The mortgage company responded almost immediately and proved there would be no “working it out” in our future.
Eleven days into the ordeal, we started a serious search for a new home. It took a while to find a few places that were (a) large enough, (b) affordable enough, and (c) self-sustainable (from a farming sense).
The first place we found was a beautiful old home on 16 acres of land. It was on the market as part of an estate sale. The deal fell through because we only had agreement from 5 of the 7 siblings. We were sad when we lost that one, because we really, really, wanted it. It had been a family home for almost 100 years, and we we wanted to continue that tradition. Instead, greed has set in and that family will sit back and argue with each other until that beautiful home falls to the ground.
Our second choice was just around the corner from the first one, and it had 13 acres. The house was smaller but some remodel work had already been done. It had new electrical and plumbing through the entire house, but there was something “not right” with that place. Call it a feeling, call it a hunch, whatever you call it, the deal was off after we made a few calls and did some more research.
The third place we found was spectacular. It was at the high end of our budget on almost 6 acres. The previous owner (who has since sold to his company as part of a relocation package) showed us the entire property. We were stunned. We were in love. Then the company that now owns the property would not work with us, at all. They obviously didn’t want to sell the property, not to us anyway.
It was now the 22nd, and by this point we were getting desperate. We were hoping to find a place before the first of the month and it didn’t look like we were going to make our self-imposed deadline.
We found our fourth choice “out in the country”. Seven acres of the most beautiful land you have ever seen, with a 100 year old farmhouse that was riddled with termites and God knows what else. The ceiling sagged, the floors creaked, and we were desperately trying to convince ourselves that we could “fix that”.
We had almost resigned ourselves to make an offer on the “fixer upper” when we found a simple little house, just down the road from our church. Literally. The house is a half a mile from our church. It only has 2 acres of land, but we quickly decided that we could grow a self-sustainable garden, with chickens, on 2 acres. We called the real estate agent so we could look at the house. It is so nice. Plenty of room for everyone, with plenty of room for my chickens and artichokes. WooHoo!
So, after 23 days of intense emotions and stress, and 23 uncomfortable nights, waking up wondering where we were going to end up, we found the place we wanted to live. We submitted an offer through our agent, and around 6pm tonight we received word that the seller has accepted our offer. How cool is that?
With the stress of finding a place behind us, the focus now shifts on the remaining 40 days we have to move. Something tells me the packing part of this plan isn’t going to be anywhere as stressful as the finding a place to live part.