Certified Mail and Beer

After spending weeks on the phone with our lender on a day-to-day basis, I decided to give up on the house and just move in with them. I bought a cot and a small bucket and I now live in an office with them. It’s the least they could do.
Just kidding.
Our loan was sent to the underwriters who felt that we would have no trouble closing on the house. Which was a HUGE relief and also a wonderful exercise in skepticism. “Oh, but you’ll think of something else you’ll need from us at the last minute that will cause me to have heart palpitations and probably waste more of our money.”
No, I didn’t say it out loud.
It’s incredible to think that we did this ourselves. Not to say that I didn’t think we could, but, well…I didn’t think we could. I didn’t think we could save enough¬†money. I didn’t think we’d qualify. I didn’t think we’d EVER finish the underwriting process. And here we are, nearing the end, and it looks like we will freaking walk into OUR house in December. Pretty amazing, right?!
Of course, that means we have to move. We held off on giving our 60-day notice (Batty requires 60 days) because we wanted to get a thumbs up from the underwriter. We also wanted to pay the least amount in rent and mortgage at the same time, so it was a wing and a prayer when I sent the email to our landlord and her assistant that they wouldn’t argue about the timeline we proposed, moving out by January 1, even though that would only be 50 days…
Then things got so fun.
I got a response from the assistant letting us know that she no longer worked for Batty.
Then I got a response from Batty, except it wasn’t Batty. It was a response letting me know that she no longer worked for the organization that owned the email address I was using for her.
I now had officially no way to give her written notice except send a letter.
It was a Friday.
It wouldn’t get there until Monday.
Now we were giving 46 days notice.
AND I had to re-write my letter.
I found Batty’s phone number in the lease and left her a message (after listening to it ring and repeating aloud, “Please don’t let her pick up, please don’t let her pick up…) letting her know of our intentions. She called back…but she didn’t call me. She called Bear.
This was a mistake on her part because calling Bear at 5pm on a Friday after a long week does not a happy Bear make. In fact, you might say it’s¬†poking the Bear.
I can’t be sure what Bear said, and all he told me was that she snapped at him that if we were moving out, we needed to send a certified letter because “that’s the law”.
Forgive me, but I also thought the law included NOT walking into the house of your tenants uninvited, but who knows? Laws change all the time.
I send a certified letter and decided to drink a beer.
On Sunday, my phone rang. “NO CALLER ID” This is not a phone call I would ordinarily answer, but I did.
“Hi, Alex?”
“No, you have the wrong number…”
“Yes. No. No I don’t. You are…Oh. Is it…Erin?”
“Who is this?”
“This is Batty.” She called herself by her real name because she doesn’t know she’s Batty. “I put a sign in your front yard this morning for rent and I’ve already had 11 people call me.”
“Oh. Ok. How nice for you.”
“Yes. So, could you move out early?”
“I…like when?”
“Just…sooner.”
“Yeah. I mean, I think so.”
“I just want to be clear I’m not TELLING you that you have to be out sooner.”
“I get that.”
“But if you CAN, it would really help me.”
You know what I thought of when I woke up Sunday morning? How could I REALLY help Batty today?
So, in short, God found a way to save us half a month’s rent. Batty even suggested that we would get our security deposit back in full for our trouble, though I don’t know if I believe that entirely.
So while I’ve had several very MILD panic attacks over closing, completing a few household repairs, and then moving, all in one week, I think God knows what he’s doing on this one.
Now.
Who wants to help me move?

(And I promise, when we close I’ll share pictures…)

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