The Housing Saga, Part. . .Infinity

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househunting, life in New Mexico, moving, New Mexico

Oh what tangled webs we weave.

I big thanks to comments that helped me understand the reasoning why banks are loath to get rid of houses they have foreclosed on.

Today our realtor stopped by and gave us a number of options. None was great. Our second choice with the great view is also a short sale, so we gain nothing by withdrawing the offer and starting again with this house. And our third and fourth choices are too far down the line to be anything but a disappointment if we chose them at this point.

On the upside, the realtor handling the short sale, says she has assurances that we will get this house, but the paperwork is simply winding its way through the machine of bureaucratic crap that one always expects. 

Our offer is in a place called “quality control” whatever that means. It is expected to get a provisional acceptance mid-week of next. It has been sent to HUD, why I am not sure, and two lines in the contract must be changed of no consequence to comply with the myriad of federal rules regarding short sales. 

Whatever.

We have told our realtor to start looking for new possibilities, raising our price a bit, and not including any short sale homes. If one comes along that is better, we will jump all over it,  otherwise we will trust that this will come through, since there is no reason on earth why it shouldn’t. We have no mortgage issues.

So that is where it sits now. We are now expecting that we could close late next week or early the following. But of course, with a bank who knows. The short sale realtor has been motivated to pressure the bank or lose a sale. Our realtor wants to sell us any house we want, so she has no reason to push this house and fudge on the probabilities. So we feel that we are making the right decision now.

Having reviewed the entire situation, we remain desirous for many reasons to get this particular house or at least one of comparable quality. We don’t want to accept less. We are getting a rather hefty price break off the initial asking price, so we don’t want to lose such a great house.

The seller is stationed in Afghanistan and has signed everything and wants very much to sell.

The house above is not the house, but is somewhat similar. The eco-friendly landscaping would be accurate, especially. The house is stuccoed as most are here, rather than the more expensive (I presume) adobe.

I shall keep you updated.

I know, be still your hearts, the excitement is showing!

Have a great Memorial Day.

I’ll probably write something if I can come up with anything worthy of note.

Dang, I Nearly Forgot Texas

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househunting, moving, New Mexico, Texas

I’ve been so engaged in all the craziness of trying to re-establish a life in New Mexico, that I nearly forgot part of our trip down. That would be Texas.

Now, I visited that state a whole bunch of years ago, and lived to tell the story, so I figured we could handle a quick pass through on our way to New Mexico. US54 passes through the panhandle of the state.

Upon entering, you learn right away that you are in the land of the longhorn. You are assailed again and again with TEXAS, TEXAS, TEXAS plastered on nearly everything. I mean every mile marker has the outline of the state emblazoned upon it, and well, just about everything else. I would guess that half of the business establishments with the state manage to some how squeeze in Texas as part of their name.

I don’t see this so much as an issue of pride as I do as an issue of helping the mentally disabled to know where there are. As long as you see the outline of Texas, you know you haven’t slithered forth into foreign territory.

We found ourselves hungry at around the lunch hour as we passed through the flat terrain of North West Texas. I had learned my map reading by then, knowing that town names that were in bold were usually large enough to support an eating establishment. True to form, Dalhart had indeed more than one food troughs, so we decided, since we were just passing through, that we owed it to ourselves to sample what Texas is famous for–beef!

The steakhouse we chose was lodged comfortably along the interstate, so we pulled in. We we immediately advised that if we had any firearms, we should not enter unless we were carrying legally. This would be akin to reminding entering patrons not to commit any crimes while inside. Well, that is Texas isn’t it? Restating the obvious.

The steak was a rib eye, and unremarkable. That in medical terminology means that it was not outside the norm in any notable way. Which means it was way overpriced for just being an average steak that I could cook at home for way less. But of course, I had the added comfort of being reminded regularly that I was in Texas–the walls had the outline of the state lines round about the dining area.

Ten gallon headpieces are de rigueur in Texas as well, it seems. At least for gentlemen, who also seem to prefer large silver belt buckles over standard fare. And of course, no costume would be complete without pointy shoes that appear to have been cut from reptilian creatures.

Our stay was short, and so of course, I cast no actual aspersions upon the fine people of Texas, except for that horse’s ass of a governor, the other Ricky.

UPDATE: Our money is in the bank here, the POD has been picked up and will shortly be on its way to El Paso and we are placing an offer on a house today. It’s not the house of my dreams. It’s a big part of my dreams, but doesn’t have everything I wanted. We have every expectation that our offer (which will take 2 weeks to confirm–the seller being out of country) will be accepted based on negotiations yesterday.

TIP: offer houses in parts, so that I can pick the kitchen I want, the view I want, the flooring I want, the appliances I want, the landscaping I want, etcetera, and create the perfect house. This should be easy enough? I found my perfect house, the problem was it existed in four separate ones. So we picked the best of course.

Life is gooder than it was. But the Contrarian and I are starting to feel like cell-mates in our one-room motel room. We figure three weeks and we will be going to our new home. Hopefully. Pray. Pray. Pray. lol