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singing the doom song

So some of you caught the missing post here and wondered what happened. You guessed correctly: Another delay with the house. The problem is that we are dealing with a divorcing couple. Whatever ugly things are going on between the two, we are left dealing with the aftermath. Today's holdup comes because the guy just can't seem to fly in tomorrow. He knew about this all week, yet he just can't get a flight in tomorrow. Right. The woman doesn't even want to sell the house, but she has to as part of the divorce settlement. I'm not going to hold anything against her; from what the neighbors tell me, the guy just up and left her right after she gave birth to their only child. He told some of the guys that he just didn't want to be married or a father. Great time to decide that, asswipe. So now the guy screws us (most likely in the effort to screw his wife from getting the much needed money from the sale of the house) and we are left here amid boxes upon boxes of our belongings. When I say we are all ready to kill each other, I do not exaggarate. We have nothing. Everything is packed. And all the packed stuff is pile around the place so there's really nowhere to move. Two people cannot be in a room at the same time. We want to paint and clean up before we leave, but we can't do that until we get the furniture out of here, which we can't do because...well, that's obvious. Meanwhile, I have a new bedroom set and a couch stored at someone else's house and they kind of want it out of their house. I am barely holding it together right now, so you'll all understand if I go crawl under my bed and never come out, right? Or maybe I'll just spontaneously combust. They'll find pieces of me scattered all over the tri-state area. Just scrape them up and throw them out along with the cicada shells. Or maybe I'll just open the tequila and load some really loud, angry songs into the radio station. What I'll probably end up doing is crying, though. I'll shake my fists and sing the doom song while I do it, but I will cry my little heart out. Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths.


Beware the jinx! Stay silent from here forward! Heed the words of the old gypsy woman, er, kinda old redneck guy.

Good things come to those who wait. Like a chance to slap the snot out of the guy when he finally get to town. Or you can do like Arnold in the running man, when he signed the contract and stuck the pen into the guys back for the final dot. :)

Hang in there.

One day, you'll look back on this and laugh laugh laugh.

What a mess! Don't you just loathe people who use manipulation as a weapon? I feel badly for the woman - especially after this guy leaves after she's had a baby - but she is better off without him...and a good thing she found out his true colors now instead of years into the marriage.

My ex is hounding me to sell this house, too. Because of many complicated issues, we divorced without settling the financial aspects...and I don't want to sell; for one thing, I'll never qualify to buy a house again on my own, and rent out here is a lot more than my current mortgage at this point. So I do feel some sympathy for the gal - but geez...you guys are living in limbo and moving rapidly towards hell, it sounds like.

Is the garage in any shape for you to move some stuff into, at least?

I hope you guys can work something out - or get this over with and get moved in. Until then, the best advice I can offer is to take it one hour at a time (forget the day-at-a-time crap; that's too much to ask when stuff like this hits).

Hang in there....

Back when I was married, our second house was a bank repo. It had belonged to a couple who had divorced. We didn't have to deal with the divorce issues like you're doing, although we did get our closing put off several times. We did have some other issues to deal with, though, mostly cleanliness (they'd let their two teenage daughters live unsupervised in the house for a year after the divorce).

I hope it goes well for you - I remember living with everything packed for extended periods, and it wasn't fun.

GodDAMNit. And I am not telling you to hang in there. I am telling you to open up that tequila and do a few body shots off the hubby, 'cause that's what I'd do in a situation like this.

As a military brat in the 60's and 70's, I know a bit what you're going through. My mother made 12 moves before I finished college... I don't know how military wives do it.

I, myself, had only one move like your's, fortunately, it got resolved in the final moments (We still got screwed in the deal though).

Sending ya an email based on my four closings.

Fears from Life of Agony is always a good feel sorry for yourself song. Always does me good!! They are in boston tonight too!
My house goes on the mkt in the AM!

Good Lord girl, I can't believe anybody else is going through some of the same shit we went through. We finally had to store our stuff at the mover's place (which cost me about $4k extra) and stay in a motel because we had to be out of our place. All I can say I that I wish you well, and I know what you're going through. Hang in there Michele, but I can tell you that you'll never get to laught about it -- it will always piss you off when you think about it.


On the other hand, imagine if you'd had to vacate your current quarters for new tenants while all this was going on... at least you have a roof and doors and your stuff isn't on the sidewalk.

Still, though: GAH!


Everything in life is temporary.

Something like this (Well it it wasn't really like this, but similar enough anyway) happened to me when I was married, moving, living out of boxes, having to leave the house we were renting while the tenants of the house we bought wouldn't leave.

Moving is stressful enough, but this, yikes.

You may learn that you don't need all of your stuff (belongings) to be happy, or that you don't really need most of it.

My advice, you and your husband (I take it) should remind each other, every chance you get, and then again, how much you love each other, and that nothing, not this inconvenience or anything else really matters in comparison, nor will it interfere with your mutual happiness.

And from this can spring great things.

Believe me when I tell you.


Hang in there. As a kid, I did the living out of boxes more than I want to remember as my Dad was promoted and moved (my parents say that's why I've moved so seldom as a grownup.)

Friend said to another, earlier today, "What you have to do, is first thing in the morning, every day, catch and eat a live toad; then, nothing worse will happen all day!"

Hey, more hugs here too.

And if ya wanna smack somebody for this, how about smacking your realtor? The jerkwad doesn't need to make a personal appearance in the age of the fax machine - and your realtor ought to be yelling at the right people to make that happen.

Just about every real estate deal I've been through (and one involved a divorce with an out of state spouse with a bit of a 'tude) has involved faxing and signing documents at one time or other in the process.

Unless NY has some proviso that he actually show up and personally deposit a DNA sample, I'd be making pplans to load up a realtor's car with cicada carcasses...

I like the doom song. I sing it at work, but I need to work on my Gir voice.

My sympathies love. Some people can be so immature.

Suggestion: Invite her on over and the two of you can commisserate about dolts and dodos.

Putting together legal action against the sub-adult male gorilla (contract violations etc.) may also be fun.

Get an attorney.

I'm with WindRider. Why isn't the title company and the attorney handling this without anyone actually having to be there?

Yeah, sounds like you need to find a way to make it more trouble for this guy to keep stringing you along than to just sell and never see you again.

The posters who've commented that the seller doesn't have to be physically present have a point. Three years ago we (finally) sold our house in Virginia. I had to get some stuff notarized and overnighted, but we never stepped within 500 miles of the place during the sale.

Military families do it a little more easily because a) the military will pay for someone else to do the packing, and b) after a while most of your stuff stays in the boxes so you don't have to repack it the next time! (Only two moves thank God, and one of them was just across town...).

Except for the books, I should probably just send every box that hasn't been opened in 10 years straight to the dump. Instead I will eventually open them, and decide that at least half of the contents are too valuable, either money wise or emotionally, to discard.

Wow, that sucks.