This feels like the saga of the Vanuatu registration but I’ve not had time to keep you all amused at my idiocy sorry.
We’ve now burnt our way through three mortgage lenders trying to buy this damn house. The first one went all weird on us. He started by asking if we had a friend with US residency who would co-sign the mortgage for us. It ended up with the friend being asked to be sole signer on the mortgage and sign the lease. We trust Jase absolutely but it just felt wrong. There was also the problem that Uncle Sam (or at least Uncle San Francisco County Hall) would want some tax blood when Jase gave us the house back.

We ditched that idiot. Trouble is, we’d only made the offer based on what he’d said he could lend us.

Now we have Cort (gender unclear, we never meet these guys) and Steve/Chris/Mike (we can never remember their names). Both claim they can get us a mortgage but…. but… and there’s the rub. We’re a fistfull of dollars short of the full price. We made the ridiculous offer based on what mortgage guy 1 said and we fell in love with the house. Now we can’t quite afford it and house prices in SF have risen about fifty zillion percent.

so, at the ripe old age of 40 I went and asked my mum for extra pocket money to buy that new toy before next month came around. She said yes. What a star. I feel a bit crap but the house is still on.

side 2, track 3.