UFB

It’s possible there’s someone out there who is still actually interested in our housing saga.  If so, this is for you, with a little review to help your head stop spinning.

The seventh or eighth house we tried to buy was the Train House.  They said they would sell it to us, then stalled and procrastinated and never signed the damned documents till we gave up and said, “You know what – just forget it.”

We put in a bid on a house with great bones but in need of a good deal of work.  We’ll call that the House on the Hill.  We didn’t get that house, as there were three competing bids.

The next week, I went to look at the dregs of houses that were left.  “You know,” our agent told me, “the Train people still want to sell you their house.”  Second verse, same as the first.  We agreed, they agreed, they un-agreed and decided not to sell their house at all.

I picked myself up off the floor and went to look at the House With the Pool and Screwed up Bedrooms and the House of Tiny Kitchen.  Of course, it goes without saying that the House With the Pool people decided to take their house off the market that day.  It didn’t matter, because the House on the Hill people called to tell our agent that their other deal had fallen through and they would now sell us their house.

But, here in New Jersey, we aren’t under contract till our attorneys squeeze some ducats out of us, and since our lawyer took a day off, attorney review took a day longer than it should have, giving the House on the Hill people just enough time to get and accept an offer from someone else.

Twenty-ninth verse, same as the first.

That was Friday.  I was eating lunch with Lilah and J called.  “What I have to say to you is completely unbelievable,” he began.

“The train people want to sell us their house.”

“Well, actually, yes,” he said.

You see, he works in the same company as Train House Woman, and she had called him up to tell him that they are now this time really, honestly, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die ready to sell us their house.

Fool us once, shame on you.  Fool us thrice?

So, um, we’re back to the train house.  Our agent has their signatures, which means crap until we get into and out of attorney review, but we put some Super Glue on our lawyer’s seat, so hopefully he’ll be stuck there until he finishes getting us under contract.

Maybe this will go through.  If not, anyone have a guest room where we can crash?