I moved around a lot since we came to Arizona. A LOT. So when I finally bought my condo at around age 22, 23 (I don’t really remember), I was beyond thrilled. I finally had my own place and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Enter my hubby. Not my hubby at the time I met him, obviously, but soon to be.
Hubby caused me to have to pack up all my belongings and haul my butt across town to live with him. He had the bigger place, and he had a dog – that required a yard, which I did not have. So I picked up and moved in.
My condo and I hadn’t really been getting along anyway – a little while after we started dating, I came home one day to find my pretty wood laminate flooring all “squishy” under my feet over by the kitchen. Called up my dad in a panic – I had a leak and I needed help. Turns out that the refrigerator I just replaced a couple of weeks before (due to the whole thing taking a massive dump on me and leaking water all over the floor) was connected to the pipe in the wall, and the people that delivered it turned the pipe – causing it to leak into the wall. I had to get the whole wall ripped out, all my kitchen cabinets and my entire floor from the dining room to the front door. It took me months to get the company to ante up and fix everything.
Shortly after that, both my toilets in the bathrooms started leaking. I had my brother come and replace both of those. I also had to replace the water heater, which again, my brother so kindly did for me. A few months before the leak debacle in the kitchen, I came home from a nice weekend trip with the boyfriend (now my hubby) and the place smelled like it was on fire. Turns out that my A/C motor had burned up. The nice gentleman who came out to fix it said I would most likely need a new A/C unit within the year.
Needless to say, I basically replaced the entire condo, short of tearing it down and rebuilding. Which is to be expected considering it was built in the 80s and I’m pretty sure everything was the original stuff that was put in. But I was still ready to be out of there. We decided to rent it out.
After finding a property management company, listing it and waiting, and waiting… and waiting, we finally had a tenant move in. Not knowing that this would be the tenant from hell – I was excited! Then the management company called. The A/C unit went out and needed to be replaced. I knew it was coming, I was just hoping it would be later. So we had to shell out $5K to get that fixed. THEN the tenant decided she was going to cause all sorts of havoc and we had to get her (and her illegal dog) evicted. Then we got new tenants.
At this point, hubby and I decided we just need to unload the place. The new tenants are well behaved, but they call the management company about every little damn thing. $60 to replace a light bulb, anyone? Plus, we aren’t even covering the mortgage each month with the fee that the management company takes.
One of my BFFs is a realtor, so I told her just get rid of it. Whatever we have to do. Turns out that it’s not even worth half of what I owe on it, so it will need to be a short sale. Not only will my credit be screwed up for a few years, but I have to go through mountains of paperwork just to see if we can sell it. What a freaking PITA.
Luckily the tenants that are in there really like the place and don’t want to move. So their children are actually liquidating their 401k in order to buy it from me. Hallelujah. One less thing to worry about. So now I go back to collecting all my short sale paperwork: bank statements, pay stubs, back taxes, financial forms, hardship letters… the list just goes on and on. Maybe I should send them one of my eggs and some DNA as well just to make sure they have everything they need.
Please just let this short sale be accepted so I can get this thing over with!!