Monday, August 22, 2011

It’s next to the Shire.

Yesterday I told someone I am from “Middle Utah.”

Granted my brain was a little scrambled because the woman I was talking to was at our house to pick up her GIGANTIC dog from our back yard a few hours after we saved him from running out into oncoming traffic near our house.

But for the LIFE of me I could not think of the words “Central Utah,” or “Fountain Green,” or “Provo.”


So after she got done telling us how it was a rescue dog that was previously owned by a hunter who was going to take it up in the hills and shoot it, I tried to let her know I understood because “I grew up on a farm in Middle Utah.”

What I am saying is, I don’t understand that basics of the English language or geography, but I do know about people who shoot their dogs in the mountains. Awesome.

Also, totally unrelated, but if you are having trouble watching any of my slideshows, I just want you to know, I DO care. I can’t post my stuff to YouTube because, in a nutshell, my slideshows are too fabulous. That leaves me with Vimeo, which I love, but you have to know the tricks if you are having problems. First trick? Don’t try to watch them in Internet Explorer. The second trick? When the slideshow starts, push pause and wait about 60 seconds for the video to finish loading and then it should work just fine.

If it still doesn’t work, get in your car and drive to my house and watch them on my computer. I’ll take pictures and make a slideshow of you watching my slideshow! It’s a win/win.

and FINALLY, since you probably can’t get me to talk about this if you have been calling me for an update:

No. We do not seem any closer to getting into the house we bought in June, then we were when we put our offer in 7 months ago. Essentially, Barbara has until the 29th of August to get her last things out, but since she is suddenly digging in her heals again, we are faced with the real possibility of having to get an attorney and a Sherriff out there. I guess you always plan for the worst case scenario, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t lame when it happens.

Have I mentioned she doesn’t even live there? That she has two other houses, a barn filled with stuff, 3 storage units, and LIVES in a condo three hours from here? Right now the hang-up is that she drives out here on Saturday, opens up the last 12 boxes she has sitting in the living room, moves stuff around in them (stuff = books, dolls, ancient bottles of lotion, magazine clippings, and zip lock baggies filled with dollar bills), tapes them back up, calls our realtor to inform him the boxes simply aren’t ready to be moved, and then leaves again for a week.

And have I mentioned that she hasn’t paid a dime for this house in over two years? And that our poor realtor has to pay the mortgage for every day she is there, and she knows it?

I am not mad at her. Seriously! Why would I even think about her when she doesn’t think about anyone else? But I am exasperated with the waiting, and I feel bad that when I was ready to walk away from this house, our realtor was so sure he could get her to move along quickly that we have all sorts of contracts that make him responsible for everything that goes on with her, whether that’s the mortgage or any attorney's fee’s.

He probably is mad at her.

And that’s your update, now I’m headed to the grocery store in Lower California.


Lorraine said...

The good news about being from middle utah is that you can enjoy "second breakfast" and "elevensies" with pure guiltlessness. It's cultural. We're from Middle Utah.

Alissa Rae King said...

I need a "second breakfast" right now, I just reread that and realized we put an offer on that house NINE months ago, not 7.

What's in elevensies? chocolate chips with a caramel ribbon I hope...

Kateastrophe said...

First of all, I've actually SAID middle Utah before to describe where someone (not me) lived.

Second, I have a great friend who is a great attorney in Irvine and I might be able to convince him to write a letter like he is seriously going to come down there and beat her. He's good with words. Lemme know.