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The short, short version:
I live in my childhood home. It's me, hubby, Mikey, my mom, my dad, and two sisters.
Matt, Mikey and I were fine in an apartment. We moved to the house because Mom hasn't worked since Billy Graham relocated to North Carolina and Dad was struggling to make the mortgage payment. By moving in, we added $700 a month to his income so he wouldn't lose the house.
Then he was laid off from his work, what, two years ago, now? Maybe it's just over one year...
Anyway, he STILL hasn't found a job, doing taxes for H&R Blockhead a third of the year isn't very much, and he's been unable to make the mortgage payments, even with our rent, because he's trying to keep up on other bills.
So a realtor is coming today to talk with him about something about some kind of sale where he's got twelve months to pay off what's owed or the house is no longer his.
When did I learn of this?
Today, when Amanda called because she found something I'd been looking for in the course of tidying the living room.
So now instead of working, I'm ranting here because I'm so, so upset that no one bloody TELLS me anything I might need to know - you know, like, "Oh, you should start looking for someplace else to live," and when I'm done posting this, I'll be busy checking out apartments in our area.
And you know what's even worse? That is the only house, the only place I consider home. I LOVE that house, that neighborhood, that area, I grew up there. And they all know it.
And no one told me.
God, help me.
I live in my childhood home. It's me, hubby, Mikey, my mom, my dad, and two sisters.
Matt, Mikey and I were fine in an apartment. We moved to the house because Mom hasn't worked since Billy Graham relocated to North Carolina and Dad was struggling to make the mortgage payment. By moving in, we added $700 a month to his income so he wouldn't lose the house.
Then he was laid off from his work, what, two years ago, now? Maybe it's just over one year...
Anyway, he STILL hasn't found a job, doing taxes for H&R Blockhead a third of the year isn't very much, and he's been unable to make the mortgage payments, even with our rent, because he's trying to keep up on other bills.
So a realtor is coming today to talk with him about something about some kind of sale where he's got twelve months to pay off what's owed or the house is no longer his.
When did I learn of this?
Today, when Amanda called because she found something I'd been looking for in the course of tidying the living room.
So now instead of working, I'm ranting here because I'm so, so upset that no one bloody TELLS me anything I might need to know - you know, like, "Oh, you should start looking for someplace else to live," and when I'm done posting this, I'll be busy checking out apartments in our area.
And you know what's even worse? That is the only house, the only place I consider home. I LOVE that house, that neighborhood, that area, I grew up there. And they all know it.
And no one told me.
God, help me.
