Saturday, April 17, 2010

Irritated

A year and a half ago when we realized that we were sinking faster than the Titanic (financially speaking), we called our mortgage company. We had just seen a rep from the company on the nightly news talking about how homeowners need to get in touch with them BEFORE they quit making payments. They had all kinds of things they could do to help people. So we called. We were told that we had to write a 'hardship' letter, and we had to provide all kinds of financial information. We sent along what they requested, and never heard anything from them. So we called again. And we were told that they did not receive anything from us. Fine. We sent it all off again, this time they had to sign for it. We never heard anything from them. When we called this time, they said that there was nothing that they could do for us at that time. They had such a backlog of foreclosures, and they would not be initiating any foreclosures at this time. It was safe for us to stop paying the mortgage, and when they got caught up, they would then try to work something out with us.

Yes, I am serious. This is what they told us. So we quit paying the mortgage. Of course, most of you know what happened then. T relapsed. I moved out. And the house has been sitting vacant, going to hell since August-ish.

They served us with the paperwork the other day. They are finally foreclosing. This whole thing has been very hard, but at this point I am just relieved. I hate to know how it is sitting there going to shit. I would much rather that someone scoop it up and make it their home. *sigh*

So, the reason for my irritability? The mortgage company has sent no less than THREE letters by UPS in the last 4 days telling us how eager they are to help us keep our home.

Fuck off.

Really? Ugh. Where the hell were you a year and a half ago??

We couldn't keep it now anyway, since T is not working and most likely will not be doing so ever again. And the whole drug scene that went on there? I cannot even go there to root through our stuff that was left behind, let alone live in it again. And there is the whole dead drug dealer issue too. I could never live there knowing what went on in there.

we would have lost that house one way or the other. Even if T had not relapsed on the cocaine, he was still abusing his pain meds... and he still would have lost his job. So in the end it would still be this way. So I guess none of it matters. I am still just irritated and pissy about the whole thing though. Meh. I feel a nap coming on...

1 comment:

Nadine said...

Oh Jen, I am just now catching up on reading about those horrible events. I wish you and your little one all the best. Hugs!