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House crap and scary David dreams
2005-08-31 - 6:57 a.m.

I do want to finish writing about Betsy's event the other night, but right now, I have other things on my mind.

When we signed the purchase and sale on the house, the agreement specifically stated that the sale was contingent on the two lots being legally separate and buildable lots. We went before the zoning committee and did our little song and dance and the variance was approved and that was that. Or so we thought.

Months go by. The Mom House is begun. Jay (my stepbrother and the man building the house) gets the proper permits, the foundation is dug, the concrete goes in, and the looooooooooooooong process of building gets underway.

We hit the snag with the digging. Winter passes and nothing happens in the house at all. We sit and cross our fingers and wait for spring.

The Digging Man arrives, and much rejoicing happens. Things creep along.

The house is now 4-6 weeks from finished. All that's left, after the painting, is the floor installation and the finish work. This should be call for much rejoicing. Right?

Well...my mom was in a standstill. Because the house had taken so long and run so far over budget, she needed to take out a construction loan to finish it. SHe'd known for some time that this was going to happen, and it was something she was prepared to do. She wasn't prepared for how difficult a process it would be, or for how unhelpful people in banks are when your situation doesn't fit their cookie cutter.

Finally, she worked everything out. She got her financing in order. Everyone was on go. The papers were ready to sign. My cousin was in full-painting-swing. Things were looking up.

Then the call came from the bank. Apparently, our mortgage is not on just our house and lot, but on the entire piece of property. This puts a lien on her house and messes up her financing.

No problem. We'll call the mortgage company and get a partial release.

Of course, the partial release requires that we supply the mortgage company with a two-page list of documents, some of which we have and some of which (like a certified plot plan of the two pieces of property shown separately) will cost us yet more time and money to obtain. And once we send the whole giant list to them and wait the 45 days they say it takes to get a decision, there's no guarantee they'll approve our request.

Add to that the second phone call from my mom's bank. The one where their lawyer tells her that the two lots were never *quite* separated by the town. Apparently, the ball got dropped just short of the approval. We say it was by the seller's attorney, whose job it was to fulfil the terms of the P&S. He disagrees. But whatever. How do we fix it? We have to go back before the planning board this week and plead our case. Oh, and we need to write a check for another $250.

Monday night, I was sitting at the table with my mom, talking about the Release List and what we need to do for it. She put her head in her hands and sighed.

"I wish I'd never started building the house."

What do you say to that? There's no way I can make her feel better. This giant albatross of a building project is sucking the life out of her. Some days, I think she'll never live in it. And I know the feeling isn't exclusively mine.

I left the table feeling extremely inadequate and went to bed.

Around 3:30, I woke up from a disturbing dream. The first part is a bit hazy--it involved walking through an indoor trail with some people I knew in my dream but who are strangers in the waking world. But the last part is very clear. I was standing on the bed in what was clearly my dream bedroom, holding a cordless phone in my hand and dialing. I got lost halfway through the phone number and was staring out into space, trying to regain my train of thought. The phone started ringing, and I held it to my ear, wondering what would happen since I'd only dialed half a number. There was a connecting click and David's voice filled the phone.

"Hello?"

"David?"

"Jennifore! Hi!"

"David--how are you?"

His voice was flat. "I'm okay. But how are YOU?"

I broke down. Between sobs, I choked out, "David, I just miss you so much!"

He started speaking, but his voice started to fade. I could only hear bits and pieces between the static. Somehow, I knew that we had done something forbidden by speaking. I started shouting into the phone, telling him I loved him and hoping the message would get to him before he was gone. Again.

Tall men in hooded cloaks appeared from nowhere, ending my call. I felt hands on my shoulders, pushing me down as a second set wrestled the phone from my grip. I woke up before it could get any worse.

Left me feeling overwhelmed all day. I didn't share the dream with my mother. She's upset enough already.

In need of a little good news over here. Thanks.

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< Betsy | The Wall That Heals >


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