I realized last night that I need to update the details on one of my posts where I report that I’ve moved 17 times. It’s now 18.
You see, yesterday was the eight-month anniversary of our move to Cobalt.
“Man, that was a lot of work,” said Reiner this morning when I reminded him of the date. “I don’t want to do that again.”
I held my tongue.
Even if you’ve moved only once, you are familiar with the challenges and stresses that come with real estate deals, bankers, lawyers… and spouses.
To say that our experience was a roller-coaster ride of emotions is an understatement. Care to join me as I reminisce?
At first, we were over the moon with our decision to retire. We were giddy with excitement as we drove up to Cobalt to shop for a new house. Within the first three weeks we prettied up and sold our Paris house and purchased the new one up north. The speed with which the real estate transactions completed left us breathless and overwhelmed, and, of course, grateful.
We met with the bank to discuss bridge financing should the closing dates not jive. We also discussed carrying a mortgage and investing the rest. “I should have an answer for you in the next two/three days,” said our banker. This was early in April. Ten days from the May 31 closing, and after multiple emails and an equal number of phone messages, the mortgage guy FINALLY replied. “Oh. Sorry, we cannot help you.” Suffice to say I am overjoyed that Scotia Bank will no longer profit by our relationship.
In the meantime, our lawyer in Paris worked on both ends of the real estate transaction. He called early in the process about a concern: the mining company that owned the mineral rights to our Cobalt property could, any day, rightfully demand that we relocate so that they could dig for minerals.
I was familiar with surface and mineral rights and I told him that I was not concerned, but that I appreciated his due diligence. What he said next sent me for a loop.
“We cannot complete the purchase.”
I may have laughed. You know, one of those outbursts when you are caught off guard.
This is where my mining studies paid off. I took a deep breath and told him that yes, that is true. A mining company can rightfully demand that we relocate, but they also must reasonably compensate us. Besides, it’s a moot point. Silver bullion prices would have to quadruple before a mining company would consider developing a deposit. At current prices, we are sitting on waste rock, not ore.
I may have growled. “We are OK with this,” I said. “Please proceed with the purchase of the house.” Then, a deeper growl. “I insist.”
As part of the sale of the Paris house, we agreed that the buyers could stop in for two inspections. That somehow morphed into at least a half-dozen visits to measure and study and to walk the yard to learn the lay of the land. They brought their toddler, their parents and in-laws and contractors along, too. After each visit we braced ourselves for the next round of questions and concerns. I grumbled that I would start charging them rent.
All of these were minor glitches, however, compared to the irreconcilable differences between husband and wife. Yes, I use that divorce terminology deliberately.
He insisted on moving our household items on his own. A three-story house, with a basement loaded with stuff and a two-car garage loaded with stuff and several sheds also, you know, LOADED WITH STUFF.
I tried my best to resist, to convince him that it was a bad, bad idea.
Stay tuned for Part 2 wherein tempers are lost, mountains are made into mole hills (and vice versa) and the truck remains upright.
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Inspired by the Daily Post : Resist
Tags: daily post