Last-minute drama

The first phone call came a week ago. "Your buyer's mortgage is approved! The deal will go through!" We were jumping up and down, shouting with excitement, and hugging and kissing each other so fiercely that we barely took notice of the second half of the message: "Pending an appraisal of the bank. They will come by on Monday."

Pff, whatever. We figured it was just a formality at this point. After all, approved is approved, right?

Wrong. 

The appraiser came. We didn't meet this person, because we were both at work. But we had heard that it usually only takes a day, and then you know their verdict. 

Tuesday came and went. 

So did Wednesday. 

On Thursday, Rich woke up with a scowl on his face and the ominous words: "I don't have a good feeling about this. It's taking too long. I hope the deal won't fall through at the last second."

"Ach, it won't!" I assured him, proving that ignorance really is bliss. "It was a done deal last Friday, right?"     

Wrong. (Again.) 

As I was at work, I saw a missed call from Rich. Thinking he was calling with happy news, I called him back. 

"The buyer is short $100,000", were his opening words. 

"Whhhhaaaaaat????", was my stunned reply. "But how? Why??"

As it turned out, the f*$%#@ing appraiser had decided that our property was worth $100,000 less than the sale price. Meaning that the mortgage they were willing to give our buyer was a few zeros short. 

"They told him that if he can find $30,000 of his own, they will give him the other $70,000." Rich told me. 

I clung to this bit of good(ish) news in this new nightmare. 

"That's not too bad, right?" I asked Rich hopefully. "$30,000 is peanuts compared to the rest."

"Yes, but only if he really wants it. If not, this is the perfect excuse to walk away from the deal."

This couldn't be happening. Not after having waited five agonizing, seemingly never-ending weeks for him to get it all together. 

The second phone call came later that day. 

Were we willing to help the buyer out? (I.e. Did we want to lower the price by another $100,000 fricking dollars?)

"Absolutely not", Rich told our agent firmly. 

"I thought so", she said. "I wouldn't do it either."

Then we had to wait. It was now Thursday evening, the last day before the deadline. We quietly discussed what we would do, how we would have to take the house off the market until next spring, and as much as that would suck, that it wouldn't be the end of the world. 

"Ohmygawd, I can't imagine having to do it all over again", I groaned into Rich's shoulder. 

"I know", he said quietly. "Whatever happens, we will get through it. We always do."

At 9 pm, the third phone call came. 

"He found the money!", our agent told us jubilantly. "It's done! He will sign the papers tomorrow!"

Can I describe the relief and joy we felt at that moment?
No, I cannot. The heavens opened, angels were singing, and there were rainbows and unicorns dancing through our living room. It was fucking awesome.

Yesterday our agent came by, and we signed more papers. She ended up staying for over two hours, even though the paperwork was done in less than 10 minutes. But we have been through a lot with her, and it was nice to chit-chat about our lives, the future, and what we all intend to do going forward.   

She shared some personal stuff, and it was really pleasant and cozy. Fuzzy feelings all around!

In June, we didn't even think of moving. 

In July, we couldn't stop thinking about it. 

On July 29th, we put our house on the market. 

Yesterday, it officially sold. 

For many, moving is not such a big deal. They do it frequently throughout their lives, never staying longer than a few years in one spot. 

For us, it's different. We both put down deep roots at our beautiful, special farm. It was the first place for me that felt truly like home. Having grown up in a small town where I felt like I didn't belong, I was searching my entire life for my place.  In 2003, I finally found it. 

Rich lived there for almost 25 years. He planted many of the trees, built the shelters for his animals, and created his own little paradise.

And yet. Our souls and hearts slowly outgrew our special place. We yearned to live slower, closer to nature (our farm is smack in the middle of a busy and ever-expanding suburbia), and in a landscape we hopelessly fell in love with: The semi-desert. 

After 13 and 36 years respectively, we are done with the rain-forest-y climate that is the Lower Mainland. We want to live amidst pine trees, cacti, and wild horses. 

With sand under our feet instead of mud. 

With blue skies and sunshine instead of rain clouds.

We are ready. 

  

I documented our journey on the blog, so we won't ever forget.

So - what's been going on? | Property hunting, Vol. 1 | Vol. 2 | Not meant to be | Vol. 3 | And then the lights went out | Vol. 4 | Magic morning | The 7 stages of selling your house | Vol. 5

Thanks for following along!

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