This may be too much info about me, but since I already mentioned in a previous post that I put my pregnant self and newborn baby on medi-cal I figure you all know that we aren’t the riches folks in the world, right? We aren’t the poorest by any means, but we aren’t the richest either.
So, back when Geric started his own business (over two years ago now) we contacted our mortgage lender in order to start the loan modification process. Obama said we could. We were practically “Joe the plumber.” My parents had been helping us out with our mortgage and Geric didn’t feel right about that anymore, but since there was also a significant decrease in our income we thought we were a shoe in. Wrong.
Did I mention that was over 2 years ago? Because it was.
Since then we have filled out three separate applications (each about 20 pages long), turned in income tax records (for both years), pay stubs every month from me, profit and loss statements in several different formats that weren’t acceptable to “the review team”… even the one from our accountant wasn’t acceptable, contribution letters, quick claim deeds, a couple of other affidavits, and guess what? We are in the same place we were in two years ago. That would be in a house that is worth far less than what we paid for it, making less than what we made when we bought it, and no hope in sight… even though the program we’re applying for has the catchy title “Hope for Homeowners.” Love it.
I guess this post is just a rant. Because, honestly, there’s nothing funny about it.
A couple of days ago, the day before Geric left for a missions trip for a week, the mailman came to my door with 40 pieces of certified mail. 40 pieces! Practically a fourth of the rainforest. Geric, my mom, my dad, and I all received 10 envelopes and within those envelopes there were two different letters (each repeated 5 times.) I suppose they didn’t want us to use the excuse that “we never got that letter.” Don’t worry, we won’t. Each letter said two things. The first one said that we owed a debt. Thanks, Captain Obvious! The second said that we were in foreclosure. Cue the piano to drop on my head. I mean, I knew it was a definite possibility. Actually, I knew it was more than a possibility, but when it really happened, it was just shocking.
The problem is that we really wanted to try and short sell our house, but we can’t even apply for that until we’ve been rejected for a loan modification. So we called the bank the day we received our “fan mail” to see if any progress was bring made in the way of a loan modification, and guess what? They need another contribution letter (slightly re-worded), the quick claim deed to be faxed (for the third time), and last months profit and loss statement from Geric. Really? Really?
I feel like I’m being played with. I feel like they’re just stringing us along. I feel like we are getting royally screwed, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it but keep answering they’re requests, hope for the best, and hope that a sheriff doesn’t come knocking at my door and tell me I have 30 days to get out of my house.
It sucks even more knowing that we actually started off doing the right thing. We bought our house putting 20% down and we got a 30-year-fixed-loan. And, honestly, they didn’t even start taking out requests seriously (as if they’re serious now) until we stopped paying our mortgage, which we had faithfully been doing for a year and half of this ridiculous process. It’s almost as if we are being punished because we did things right and everyone else that bought a house with nothing down or with a government arm loan is being told, “Oh, bad move. Here let me help you.” No offense if you did that, but those people went into it knowing there was a risk that their mortgage would go up significantly. So why are they being soothed and we are being ignored? It just seems backwards.
I know, in the end we’ll be okay. We won’t be homeless, ever.
But It’s the injustice of it all that’s killing me. It feels like nobody cares. Like all they care about is their money. And I don’t expect Obama to care about me individually, but where’s the hope and change, Big Man? (Sorry, was that out of line? The “big man” reference I mean.) I kinda want to call up Michael Moore and have him make a documentary about the injustices of the housing market, but it seems like he’s simmered down since democrats have taken over, doesn’t it?
I don’t know. It’s all enough to make me want to throw up, really. The unknown is a killer. And being completely out of control is even worse.