Aftermath

After two sleepless nights knowing that the bank had received my "employment verification" but having no idea what it said on the form in the "prospect for continued employment" section, the bank finally confirmed that everything looked fine.

Phew, we had dodged another bullet. Little did we know, there was a sniper still hidden behind the chimney, on the roof.

By Wednesday, we still had not received our "final, final" approval so I followed up with the bank. They still haven't heard they tell me.

"So, should I pay December's mortgage and property taxes due in TWO days (and were supposed to be folded into the loan)?" I ask.

"Well, it's up to you if you want to avoid late penalties.

Seeing that the property tax penalty is over $500 and the mortgage one is least $200, along with a ding on our credit score, why yes, I would like to avoid late penalties.

"Thanks so much for the heads up," I say as I prepare to rush down to the post office.

"Oh, you cannot mail it because it won't be reflected in the system which could delay the process by another 10 days or more. The best thing to do is take it downtown or pay online," they inform me.

"Okay, it's 4pm on Thursday. I live in Topanga so it's pretty much a certainty that I would not make it to the tax office downtown by 5pm. Since paying online could involved a hefty service fees I asked if the bank would cover it. Of course they would not.

"Are you kidding? Were you going to call me about this at any point" I asked flabbergasted, but I immediately got online and found out that if you use a debit card, the fees are low and the payment immediate. I forward the receipt to the bank and that near catastrophe is averted.

So, we should be good to go we think. The fact that this loan is still a possibility is a miracle. That is, until Thursday arrived. That afternoon, we received a call from the bank. "There's something wrong with Henry's W2 that is not matching up." Apparently, although his W2's matched our tax filings for the past two years, nothing was coming up up when they tried verifying this amount with the IRS. Something didn't upload when his employer filed their employee's W-2's for the past year and the bank could not verify that he had made the amount of money reflected on his W2. We had to cancel our visit to Boulder, Colorado and I feel like such a loser to have to cancel on my cousin and his family for the second time.

So, all of Thursday night and about 4 hours on Friday, Hank was on the phone with both the IRS and Social Security offices trying to get this resolved. He spent so much time on the phone on hold that he kept having to switch phones and recharge them while he was holding. At the end of the day, it was resolved between all parties involved that he would have to go to the IRS with his employer on Monday morning and beg for a letter that certified that his W2's did indeed match those of his employer. Oh, and my employer called and said that my resignation letter must be submitted on Monday and that it could potentially send out a red flag. Yippee. We've got a fun weekend of waiting for Monday.

But, somehow we actually did have a nice weekend that helped readjust my growing negative attitude over this whole thing. First of all, when our Colorado plans changed, we were able to attend a dear friend's 50th birthday celebration with the birthday boy and his wife so generously treating 10 of their closest friends to an incredible 8-course tasting menu at Bastide on Melrose Place.

Then, after dropping off Caleigh and her friends down on PCH so they could take the bus to Third Street Promonade on Sunday morning, I was driving back up the canyon and came upon the aftermath of a 2-car collision. I was the first car there so I pulled over and went to see how the two women involved in the accident were. They were badly, badly shaken up, but thankfully for both them and me, no blood, broken bones or worse and I was able to call 911 and report the accident somewhat coherently. As I stayed with them until the police, fire and paramedics arrived I talked with them and they were both so helpful and apologetic to each other, I was amazed. A motorcyclist was slowing down traffic around the blind curve and this kind, tall Israeli guy smartly suggested that we all get away from the smashed cars and off the street. Then the younger woman started to get more and more upset and I kept telling her, "you're gonna be okay. you just need to go to the hospital to make sure there's not anything seriously wrong." And then she burst into tears and said that there was indeed something seriously wrong with her. She had a cancerous brain tumor. Ah geez, no. This beautiful young woman, with big, brown eyes and a long black braid and cute little silver ring pierced on the side of her nose. No....So I stayed with them for as long as I could and when it was time for me to go, I hugged her and told her that she was going to be alright. This complete stranger thanked and hugged me back. I pray she will be.

So, that's my story for the day. I'm stressed out of my mind over this loan and our move to France and yet, no matter what happens, I realize just where I need to put these worries on a scale of importance. And I also understand even more why we have to pursue this dream now.