It's All Joe's Fault

Mark and I did the right thing and got pre-approved for financing on a new home. It's the best way to go shopping for real estate. You find out how much you're qualified for, add to that amount what you intend to put down on the property, and then deduct twenty five to fifty thousand dollars. What you have left is what you realistically can spend along with extra money for decorating and surprises. At least that is how I figured it. Mark has a little different take on how that works. He takes the down payment, adds the amount that the bank had pre-approved, and then he adds twenty five to fifty thousand dollars that we don't have on to that.

It seems that the guys who signed a contract to buy my house think like Mark. It turned out that they cannot get financing so they backed out. This of course sent Mark into a tizzy, pissed me off, and made our real estate agent look bad. I don't care about the agent, and I found that if you scream loud enough you can shock Mark out of his tizzies. What I can't get over is being both pissed off and a little depressed. Even though I know better, I planned ahead as if the deal were going to go through. I want to move to Chicago in the summer. I don't want to be going through all this with three feet of snow on the ground, and killer icicles dangling from the roof of our new front porch. Anyway, we now have to start all over again and I blame it on Saint Joseph, who I buried head down in the front yard. I think that this is some sadistic stunt that he did to get back at the dumb atheist who buried him. Fine, I dug his ass up and stood him on the fence. We'll see how he deals with the squirrels.