Most! Expensive! Day! Ever!

Yesterday was non-stop. I was out the door shortly after 8, got home after 7, so wiped I have no idea how far after. About the only thing I didn't pay for was gas.  I wish I could say I took care of all my shopping but that's far from the truth.

I first headed  down to the metro. I needed to meet somebody to hand over some cash for a combined past/future payment for help in moving things. There were thrift store purchases a few weeks ago needing bigger transport than a compact, and this weekend they will go from Paul's house to the new, along with lots of other stuff. With a recliner and couch in the new place tomorrow, we'll at least have places to sit and/or stretch out. Oh sure, there are two places to sit there now, and their the plumbing works perfectly! But they are not comfy long-haul, and it's a bit weird carrying on a conversation while on them, especially considering they are in separate bathrooms. Not to mention hard to hear, even if you don't close the doors.

There was a detour on the drive, since the person I was meeting is a late sleeper. I decided to hit a Target on my way. The plan was to find bath rugs for the new place, since all the old ones had gone into the trash instead of getting packed. Trust me, they needed to. The last couple months down there, accessing the laundry had been problematic. This shopping trip should kill the right amount of time. 

But there was a big surprise! They didn't have any contour rugs for around toilets! I could still find the other one Steve wanted in Navy for his bathroom, so picked that up. As for my bathroom, all the available greens were depressingly drab, olive toned, and for my taste, ugly. Hmmm, so what else? I found a couple plastic 3-drawer storage units, the kind great for socks and undies. Steve had decided not to pack his dresser for the trip north, not knowing how small a bedroom either of us would have in a new place we hadn't seen. These are great inside a closet sitting on the floor, and being nearly transparent, one can easily see what is in which drawer. Then I went back to the "seasonal" far corner to look over pots to move my new ponytail palm houseplant into. It needs more space. I wound up with potting soil but didn't care for the pots. Time to check out, and make my next appointment, paying a helper.

Once that was accomplished, I headed to my credit union. I had a list for them but forgot one part of it: depositing a bunch of checks I've been sitting on. They are still in my pocketbook, a couple for under a dollar, combined. A slight overcharge in prescriptions. It wasn't my only mistake. At least I got to sit down with a banker to accomplish the rest of my needs, since they took about 20 minutes. First, cutting the certified check to pay for the new home. This alone was more than I had ever spent in one time in my whole life! But then, with our new address, and the credit union having merged and getting a recent name change, it was time to order new checks. Here was my other mistake. When my banker offered to shred the pad I was still using, I totally spaced the fact that I'd need one for the last errand of the day! It had to be a check, there was no provision at the site for taking a card, it was over my ATM withdrawal limit for the day, and we haven't yet set up direct bank deductions. We will in a week or two.

Since the credit union was across a huge parking lot from Walmart, I decided to check there on bath mats. Also plant pots, since I knew they carried one I liked and chose not to buy previously. As for a mate to Steve's navy rug in a contour rug, I snatched their last one. (These two stores must have the same buyer since all their bath rugs were identical!) I still had nothing for my bathroom... but there's online shopping with lots more choices later. I got the new plant pot, and a nice saucer. Just as I thought I was going to leave, a selection of lightweight dishes caught my eye. The old combined partial sets from when we first moved together had gone to a young couple at our last garage sale. We kept a small decorative dishes set, never opened from when we moved it south in 2012. These new dishes on the shelf have a nice color/pattern, but the best part was the plates are almost bowls, with about a 1" high rim. Perfect for steaks! We always have an issue with the meat juice, the butter/juice from the sauteed onions and mushrooms Steve puts with our steaks. These would keep that from spilling. I got 4. We didn't need any other dishes since mugs and bowls and other stuff had been packed. The old plates went away because they were very heavy, and my shoulders have a problem lifting heavy things off high cupboard shelves, starting with my own arm weight having to be factored in. 

I knew the Walmarts I'd been shopping at sold vinyl on rolls, cut to size in the fabric section. I didn't like the patterns I'd seen in other stores, but this was a new-to-me one, so I thought I'd check. We will have two wooden tables needing protection, one specifically from watering plants. Finding my perfect pattern at long last, I located a clerk to measure and cut. The remainder after the first cut was perfect for the second table.

The back of the car was now full. Did I stop spending? Hardly! It was off to a big box hardware/appliance/carpet/etc. store. First, a freezer. I went in looking for a chest style, and immediately decided, given the lack of sensible baskets in them these days, that our backs would never tolerate what it would take to dig out whatever was sitting near the bottom, especially since my plans for that space mostly included turkeys, plural. Upright freezers it was then. They had the brand Steve's friend (who runs an appliance store) recommended as best quality. By now I had staff help, so I picked out the size/price/features I wanted, after discovering their Memorial Day Sale on them hadn't been ended yet. Yeee Haaaaaaa! Delivery was going to be free too, as part of the sale. Could I be there to get it delivered Wednesday? You bet!

However, a question was raised. This would be inside, over a carpet over wood, not in a "nice" basement on concrete nor in a garage. What would be needed to prevent possible water damage? I called Steve's friend and got his advice. I know what to hunt for, and given the size of the footprint of the freezer, how big it has to be. However... Can we push back freezer delivery another week or so? (I'm making a list for today's phone calls.)

With that taken care of, I walked 20 feet to the neighboring department and ordered the new carpeting for Steve's bedroom. We'd been in the store a week ago and written down his choice of carpet and pad. The current carpet has gotten stretched, has ridges in it, and is a tripping hazard. The new one is blue, of course, and the name is easy to remember because it's the name of one of the granddaughters. The installer will be out to measure and give a final price on Saturday. (Having the pieces of furniture we can sit in brought out there the same day will be a real benefit!)

Was it that late already? I called Steve as arranged to make sure he was up and getting dressed, drove the 18 miles home to pick him up, with barely time for me to grab a couple granola bars for the car for lunch, and headed to the new home to swap a check to the seller for the keys and whatever else needed to be discussed last minute. We wound up 15 minutes late. Since everything but potting supplies were for the new home, I also took those straight inside, along with the fishing chair for Steve to sit on. No point taking them to our temporary domicile and bringing them back another time. I still have energy but not that much!

Our next stop now was going with the seller over at the DMV to switch the title on the home. Wheels or no, they are handled like vehicles that way. The DMV is just one town away, and as always there was a long line. Lucky for Steve there were empty chairs, and he entertained himself interacting across the room with a one-year-old in a stroller and his slightly older sister. As we've also come to expect, once we were called up, there were paperwork issues. Our seller was an heir, not the owner listed on the title. She had it mostly covered in her handful of paperwork, but the death confirmation was looked up online. It had been in the St. Paul newspaper. Then there was more she had to sign on her parts of the transfer before she could leave.

However, Steve and I were now sent, with a new stack of paperwork including the old title and an affidavit that she was authorized to sell it, to the county courthouse. It was conveniently just two towns over in the other direction, and if we were lucky and the right people had the time to deal with us promptly, we could be back before the DMV closed for the day. What was needed was "the letter" - the county people would know exactly what was meant - proving there were no outstanding property taxes due on it. We were sent to one window, luckily with chairs outside in the hall so Steve could sit, because the real person needed was way down another hall. Looking at Steve, the guy who answered our bell went to go get her and ask her to come back to this location. Once she did, after asking a question, she went back for more paperwork. This is when the fellow who went and fethed her to save us walking discovered he'd locked himself out of his own office. No biggie, he just rang the bell we'd rung to get him, and another employee let him back in. By then the woman with the paperwork returned and escorted me to yet another window while Steve enjoyed his chair longer.  I paid all the taxes through the end of this year, a totally unexpected cost. We found out we can't file for homestead until January 2 of next year, so they should go down then. Even as just personal property, this payment was over a thousand, but we had our letter now for the DMV.

We were in time to get back in their doors, where we spent 20 minutes of signatures, showing IDs, providing other information, and putting separate charges on the card for each little piece of the process, before walking out with photocopies of the old title and proof we'd done the transfer. I lost track in the process of what the charges even were, though once finally home for the day they were already online.

With a bit of time to kill before our final meeting of the day, we popped back in to OUR new home. Might as well unpack what I'd hauled in earlier, measure a couple spaces, and take advantage of private bathrooms. I also took more note of how unkempt the plantings around the house had gotten in two weeks! The rhubarb has bolted, small bushes are being choked out by other plantings and surprise weed trees. Some mowing had been done but I see a solid couple weeks of work ahead of me just to return order. The management is very fussy about that. There will be weeds to pull, a raised bed of solid weeds to be dug up once I've sprayed to kill the aggressive contents, and then I can begin to transfer bulb plants and other perennials into it, getting it settled down by fall so the daffodils, tulips, and such can go in.  (Memo to self: buy large box of biggest Hefty bags for plant waste and haul to Paul's compost pit. Tomorrow.)

There was still more money to be spent, in our final meeting of the day. It was a formal long sit-down with Monica from the management company. A few more things, like our lease to be signed, places still needing initials in long columns because why only have half a page in use and waste the rest of the paper? Find more stuff to be initialed! There was a lot of explanation of what certain regulations covered, some "What abouts...?" on our part like did we want to have our parking spaces plowed for $20 a time? (YES!) or who provides wifi, which days are garbage pickup (now on her list to find out: this company is new here, so new we're Monica's first such meeting for the park) and that last little matter of a check for two months rent, one held as a deposit.

Steve to the rescue! His social security came in a couple days early, and it more than covered that cost. He conveniently still had checks. In turn, I arranged to take care of some of his expenses with my card where that worked until we were even again. Or if my checks show up sooner than the two weeks' promised wait, I could just write him a check for the balance. Or hit an ATM for a fairly small emergency cash amount. We'll figure it out.

So done spending money? Heck no! I missed an adequate lunch, and the end of the meeting lasted past  our usual supper time. Since it had been held at the local DQ, and our official paperwork was (mostly) over, we each got something there.  I almost spent more after I got home, but fell into the google-hole of looking for my new bath rugs. It was overwhelming! I wound up on eBay with 20 in my watchlist, then at another site putting half a dozen in my cart. I figured a night's sleep would clear my head enough to figure just which to order. (I was right.)

We still faced  getting the whatever for under the freezer, suitable bathroom rugs, some cleaning supplies, getting insurance on the new home, ordering a pair of bar stools, buying cleaning supplies so we (I) could wash our new dishes, a new Rx refill, gas for the car, and who knows what the heck else the next day or the next.... (Spoiler alert, I found a simple adaption to solvethe freezer issue, so no delay on that install. Or not from that reason at least.)

And the next month. But unless the I win a lottery I don't even enter, there will never be a spending spree to match this one single day. 

I doubt I'd survive it.

How Many Times Have You Had An FBI Investigation?

Or more specifically, ones that you knew about, either at the time or afterwards. I've had three which I know about, only the latest of which I actually asked for. 

The first was when I was 16, applying for my first "real" job at a Walgreens in the St. Paul midway area, working as a waitress at the lunch counter, back when Walgreens had those. I got very little real training, made terrible tips, but learned for the first time there was such a thing as a vanilla soda and I could make one by putting the right flavor syrup into a glass of charged water. I could make it a vanilla Coke as well, or other combinations. The FBI hook was in order to work there I had to be "bonded", meaning they had to check whether as a 16-year-old I'd managed to get a criminal record as one of my accomplishments. I had to take a slip home to my parents to give their approval for the investigation. Or I could just not work there. My parents debated it for a while before signing. But hey, it was just Walgreens. Bonding was just a more ubiquitous practice than they'd realized.

I passed. When less than a year later I switched to working for Montgomery Wards, no bonding was required. Nor was it ever again... that I'm aware of.

The last FBI investigation is much more recent. While living in Arizona I applied to get a concealed carry permit. I had no gun to conceal, much less carry. Nor did/do I ever plan to. But there were plans to travel through Texas on the route between AZ and MN each year, and I still believe to this day it would give me more "cred" if ever I were pulled over there by some trigger-happy Bozo in uniform. I passed this investigation as well, and promptly refused to ever drive through Texas again. Go figure. I still carry the permit, though with living in MN now, it grants me absolutely nothing. It doesn't matter to me, except that the slots for plastic cards in my pocketbook are getting too full to get all my cards into without a struggle. It still amuses me to carry the card, so it stays in its spot. I tossed out some Arizona-specific cards instead, like my Voter ID. I won't need that again.

During the time in between the 1st investigation in the '60s and the last just a few years ago is the one I never knew about while it was happening, would never have learned about if I hadn't passed, but would just have lost a source of income if I hadn't. These days I remember about it perhaps once a decade, along with its tinge of temporary paranoia which learning about it produced for a few weeks. It comes up right now since we're getting investigated before we can get into the place we want to live, much more on credit history and general criminality, no FBI involved. Not that I'd have a problem if they were.

It was in the early '70s, and I was a new mom in a trailer park with a husband and our first baby. We were almost at the point in this country where maternity leave was protected by being able to return to your job, but since that hadn't happened yet, I became self employed doing in-home family day care. There was my first, then a pair of siblings, then my second, and last in the group at this point was a young girl not quite in kindergarten, if I remember correctly. My second child may or may not have been born when she started coming. Such details fade in relation to the timing of others. Our little group took a lot of walks in the area, as we were near a nice lake with little traffic on the roads during weekdays.

I was told very little about the older child during our intake interview. There was an unnamed  kind of health issue revolving around immunity, requiring gamma globulin. If I recall correctly, day care was the first she was allowed around other kids with all their germ sharing. Mom, an RN finally able to return to work, managed the medical side of her care, hospitals and treatments,  no meds for me to give. The child was a bit physically awkward, a bit behind her peers by age, had some possible development issues from early illness and isolation, and shy at first. She was quiet, well behaved, and seemed to adapt fairly well to the younger children around her. More information filtered in as time went on. She was a surviving twin. Without any other details, I assumed she'd had the same health issues but a worse outcome. I wonder if the twin died before or after birth, but either way Mom was sure this child missed her sibling, who, aside from the the one comment, was never mentioned, never named. 

Daddy was a cigar smoker, and I made a conscious effort not to let the lingering odor in her clothing put me off to giving her the hugs and attention the others got. After about a year in my care, now that she was in school, her irate mother stopped in one day to ask why I hadn't said anything about the lingering smell, which now was separating her socially from her schoolmates, and not in a friendly way. 

I was dumbfounded. I'd been raised to always be polite and not mention all kinds of things to others. It didn't seem to make a difference in our home, but yes, I did notice it. Her teacher didn't have the upbringing I did and made it a point within a couple weeks of the start of school to ask her mother to get rid of all cigar smoking inside their house and be sure to scrub all traces of the stink from everything inside, including this child's clothing. Mom had become immune to the smell but after hearing from the teacher made sure Daddy only smoked outside after that. He wasn't happy. Too bad. Their daughter was more socially accepted after that. And I got a needed lesson.

You've been patient but are probably wondering just what this has to do with an FBI investigation. Her mom asked to have a private chat with me after she'd been in my care a few months, partly because we were outside as much as we were. We discovered asparagus to pick and eat in early summer, found blackberry bushes to carefully pick berries from in July, walked along the lakes or to a nearby park, or whatever was right for the weather and activity levels of the kids. There were field trips, including a local library with story times, the grocery store to shop for food, even a trip to the zoo or the state capitol building. It was our being so active that brought on the conversation with her mom.

I'd no idea I had passed another FBI background check after taking on the care of this girl. But there were things happening that meant we might be followed while we were out and about, and I needed to be aware of who, why, and what I needed to do, and not do.

The biggest "not do" was tell anybody else what I was about to hear. I didn't for a very long time, until the people involved were no longer being threatened, protection was way past being needed, and I'd long since lost contact with the family, even to remembering their last name. When much younger, this child had been kidnapped. She'd been held as an attempt to influence the actions of a close relative of the family who was in an important position of influence in the CIA. I was never given a name or a job title. However, being related to the family, occasionally he would visit. As a result, in order to protect this child from any repeat attempts to harm her, any time the relative was in the area, or any other time a threat was deemed likely, she would have protection from high levels of the government. I might, in that event, without any notification whatsoever so as to give her as normal a life as possible, notice that I/we were being discretely followed. New cars would be in the area. It should be, I was informed, so discrete I'd never notice it, but if I did I wasn't to panic but just be aware. After all, I and the other kids would also be protected at the same time.  For the record, I never did notice any such activity. But I was informed that an FBI background check was ordered on me at the direction of the CIA, and I had passed. This child could stay in my care.

I was blown away. It was a hard secret to keep, but the thought I might be being monitored secretly kept me quiet, even if I were tempted. I became cautious of what I said even jokingly on the phone. There were sudden flashes of "OMG THEY INVESTIGATED ME!" My conscience dragged up every last tiny thing, wondering if they'd found out about whatever it was. Then that changed to wondering if they cared about whatever it was. After all, I passed. So were they stupid or indifferent? Were they still checking in on me? I did eventually get over myself.

Once she was in school full time, she left day care since a parent was home before and after school. I lost track of her because we moved a couple miles away.

I do wonder now if this child has survived to become a mother, even a grandmother. Were her health issues genetic, preventing children? How is she doing socially, assuming she lived to grow up? Does she remember our little day care? Did she grow up hearing tales of her powerful relative and the cost of being family? Or was she protected from all knowledge except whatever she may have remembered from a very tender age, perhaps reliving in nightmares? Of all the children who came and went through that day care, she is the one I have the most questions about with the least expectation of any answers.

Oops

 Just a little slip of the finger and OOPS!

I'm sure it's happened to you all at some time, right? You're online and hit the wrong key. Suddenly you've approved something, bought something, posted something you had no intention of approving, buying or posting.

Sometimes you can fix it.

Sometimes you can't. Or at least can't figure out how to fix it.

I did that last week. I was looking at an "untitled" post in my list of recent posts. In this case it was a blank page. I'd somehow pulled it up when pulling up another blank page to put a post on, and here it was, still sitting there. 

I tried to delete it. I'd just said all I wanted to say for the day. It was late, I was tired, and my fingers were telling me I really needed to go get some sleep, not fiddle with a screen I could put something on later. 

So......

I thought I deleted it. I shut my laptop down and got that needed sleep. Next time I wanted to post something, there it sat in my list of already posted items.

Wait! What? Already posted? No title, no content, just a big nothing-burger? I flipped back to my blog's front page and yep, there it sat, officially posted with nothing there, taking up an inch of space it didn't deserve. I went back into my working page, where I write and rewrite and proof and rephrase and correct until I can post something I'm not totally ashamed of, and there was no "delete" button. I looked at all the little symbols I ignore because I both don't know what they're for and haven't needed to use them... yet. Nothing gave me to power to make that nothing-burger go away. 

I looked at the stats accompanying all my posts, wondering if there were something on that page which would let me delete it. I could "update" the post, but how do you update nothing? One might think I could actually write something there so it becomes a something-burger, but one little thing stopped me. Seven of you had already been counted as reading it.

I do hope you all enjoyed it. Perhaps you found it a relief from the usual length of what I tend to post. Perhaps you credited it with being irony, or the quintessential meta message of "nothing to say". More likely your reaction was WTF? and you went on to other things in your day.

Anyway, it's not going to get fixed. It's not just I can't figure out how. But if I did ever figure it out, then I'd have to delete this post too as well, because what would be the point of leaving it up?

Rainy Morn

 It's been rainy for several days. Several weeks, actually, with a few breaks. Mostly they've been gentle rains, just enough to keep the ground moist and the plants growing. For a bonus, of course, it's been the most mosquito filled couple of weeks now in the recent years I've been in this northern yard. By bonus, I mean if you're a critter that likes them for breakfast. And lunch. Or afternoon, suppertime, and bedtime snacks. If so, you've been very well fed recently. If you haven't been very well fed on mosquitoes, maybe it's you I can blame for them being very well fed on me!

There have been winds going through as well, some times with the rain, sometimes without any rain. The driveway is lined with old birch trees, both paper and river birches. They tend to be full of dead twigs, and rubbing branches do an excellent job of tossing those twigs off in all directions. Some get dragged onto the street under the cars backing out. Sometimes somebody actually has a few spare moments before leaving the driveway to pick up a couple dozen and toss them on the twig pile. Some are just left where they land and get broken by car tires without becoming rearranged.

All those twigs are basically an excuse to stop and watch what next is blooming in the garden lining the drive. This week it's iris. The first of the bulb, or Dutch iris, already bloomed last week and are gone, except in photos. I marked their locations well, and plan to dig some up and move to our new home. Their blue was exquisite. Today, looking out the front window, yellow caught my eye. A closer look, after the rain stopped and I'd donned clothing, revealed them to be a blend of yellow and white, with grey lines. With raindrops of course.

Looking further away from the driveway I discovered a light purple and white iris emerging from dark blue buds. It was another Dutch iris, still fairly small, and hiding a second bloom right behind it. I thought about taking several shots to try to get a truly good one, or at least separate the two for more definition, but my stepping through grass and hostas to shoot even the first ones had awakened several dozen hungry mosquitos already.

I know, I should have gone inside at that point. I had summer pants on, denim only to the knees, with ankle high socks. Plenty of area for a five course banquet for the bugs, and the dinner bell hadn't stopped ringing. However, there were also large bearded iris in the garden, huge dark purple blooms, also full of raindrops,  and furry orange throats. I'd taken a shot or 11 of them a day or two earlier, before the rain.

Now I had to take a dozen shots of them after the rain. I just had to. I could run away from mosquitos later. Or at least try. So I stayed out and fed a few dozen more. just for this.

 As I type this, the bites have (mostly) stopped itching. I think it was worth it. Let's see now if the pale blue and the orange bearded iris have survived the winter. Should take about a week to find out.

Physics Or Falacy?

First, full disclosure of ignorance: while I have had an interest in many of the sciences  for nearly all of my life, from the time I hit Junior High on, I never had a course in physics. Not officially. I picked up bits and pieces throughout my life since, from science magazines, TV, and even science fiction. Some made sense, some were dismissed as pure baloney, and some still puzzle me to this day. Anything with "quantum" in front of it I freely admit I will never understand, nor does that bother me.

Many ideas - we can call them theories - didn't make sense when I heard them, still don't exactly, yet I can see a tiny window into how they might work. Of those, a couple still bother me in that they seem polar opposites yet both are widely accepted as true.

In my personal education, the concept of entropy was the first bothersome concept. Everything is winding down, in over simplified form. I can see that on a mega scale. We die, stuff decomposes. Speed without input of continuous energy will slow, because other factors like friction still exert their forces. One concept that was drilled into me very early is the conservation of energy. You can't destroy it, merely change its form. Entropy argues against that, to my mind, with its declaration that everything winds down. It doesn't say how energy changes to non-energy, different energy, or where it goes, just that it becomes gone.

Sure, I learned how to pass the test to get a good grade, without accepting it for a second except on a macro scale. But decomposing matter feeds different recipients like fungi, which in turn support other life, and/or become oil over the ages, which then gets brought to the surface and burned, creating again energy. New form, not nothingness.

Then there's the supposedly competing theory, popularized as the "butterfly effect". Remember the original "Jurassic Park" movie? One butterfly can create a hurricane, in over simplified terms again. It kind of makes sense in explaining unintended consequences, like a tiny piece of gossip can ruin a reputation of somebody who would have invented/accomplished/influenced something really big and important through a series of increasing consequences. But looking at it as a physics theory, the problem with the butterfly effect is that each subsequent effect requires a huge input of energy which has no source nor explanation. It tickles the fancy without standing up to examination, in my - again admittedly inadequate - education and understanding. I tend to see those effects dying out in the face of stronger forces, not getting a boost from them. The wingbeat from a butterfly won't change a breeze, but the butterfly will get knocked off course by that breeze.

If you've gotten this far, you're likely wondering just where all this musing came from. It branched off an online conversation this morning with somebody about climate change and some new research pointing in a seemingly very unlikely direction. Have you heard of the AMOC? OK, I hadn't either, but suddenly it's popping up with greater frequency in climate discussions. It refers to the ocean current tipping point, the point where the Gulf Stream slows to a stop and what we think we know about how our temperatures will change goes out the window. If that's too oversimplified for you, research it. (If you want extreme detail, try https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH-Nb2N7WY8 for a fairly easy to follow presentation, or the 54 page document full of statistics and formulas it's based on. I'll see you back here in a month. Maybe 5.)

What stuck out for me is how places we expect to heat sky high don't, and how some actually get really really cold. I queried the person I was talking with about why the really cold spot off Greenland - or another in Hudson Bay - didn't change when everything around it did. I brought in effects like brownian motion on the molecular level plus the effects of our planetary motion with days and seasons bringing in atmospheric forces to affect change. His personal day/night schedules are different than mine so I haven't gotten an answer yet, though I suspect he'll come up with acknowledging those effects working, but on a much much slower time scale to bring a fairly even change over the planet into being. Like the difference between ten years and ten thousand, for example. Maybe ten million is more likely. But he often surprises me.

The answer to my question likely won't have any effect that many of us will be around to observe. The tipping point is projected to arrive possibly as late as 2095. Sighs of relief I hear? It also could arrive as early as ... 2025. These graphs are not straight lines but trends of where highs and lows are going. They're getting more extreme in depth of change as well as how long the changes last. That's why they can't pinpoint the exact when. Just the what and where. Tipping points mean there is no return. We are already in many feedback loops.

Also note that what you are hearing about planetary climate change, if you live in the US, is mostly about our own weather here. More spring storms with tornadoes, for now, though it seldom mentions climate change. There is a start of forecasting more and stronger hurricanes later this summer. Almost nobody tells you it's climate change AND it's our fault. Your home insurance rates are rising - where you can still get it - but nobody tells you the real cause, or the fact that insurance companies' profits are still very healthy. You're probably not hearing about Central and South America, the death of the Amazon rain forest, the end of bananas, coffee, and cocoa in those regions, and even,  because it "seems funny" to some people, the frequency of howler monkeys falling out of trees from heat stroke, dead upon impact. The howlers get some press, the other animals don't. The forests are going quiet.

Try some foreign news sources, like The Guardian. While groceries and other things get more expensive, also note, when you can find it, the profits the big corporations are making while raising your prices, and how high executive paychecks have gotten these last few years. Corporations are people too, my friend, and those "people" are becoming Oligarchs running what we think is still a Democracy.

That, for sure, is not falacy.

Is It Supposed To Require Torture To End Pain?

First business, the house sold, we got paid. Now to get into the new place.

Steve had an appointment with a pain specialist earlier this week. One would think that would be defined as somebody who knows how to relieve pain. It didn't quite turn out that way.

First he had a nice, hour long, appointment with a doctor to determine what, after all he's been through, might be the next appropriate thing to do to help, or try to help, relieve his back and knee pain. Knee replacements never helped knee pain. Back treatments uniformly helped either not at all from the beginning, or gave initial relief and then backed off from providing any relief.

Her referral was to a clinic down in the metro which did nerve ablation, under the theory that nerves radiating out from  between vertebrae spread pain outward into other parts of the body, and pinpointing exactly which ones are the first step to ending the pain. Then they get zapped or something, and pain gone.

Doncha love theories?

Steve has a very sensitive back. I have learned over the years to never, ever come up behind him and lovingly touch his back. For him it is nothing in any way, shape or form, loving. If I tell him first, he's ready and very receptive, starting at the neck and working down, especially for a massage or scratching an itch he can't reach. Otherwise, he jumps at a touch, and that jarring itself brings on more pain.

So of course he informed the people preparing to  do the procedure about how his back reacts. And of course, as soon as he was laying on the table they squirted cold gel in exactly the wrong spot, making him jump! And say a few choice words! Not a propitious start, to say the least.

Then came the needles. They are supposed to pave their own path with some anesthetic as they locate and travel either up or along a chosen nerve. If having root canal treatments is any sample of the procedure, the numbing has to come about 5 minutes before the rest of whatever they plan to do, or the result is pure torture. If you have no clue, count yourself blessed and just take my word for it. If you do know... I'm sorry.

Steve tried really hard to comply with their plan. There was no apparent anesthetic with the first needle. Nor the second. By the time they started number three, he insisted they stop, remove them all, and he walked out once he'd recovered enough to move.

Predictably he was in more pain coming out than going in, and for the next couple days it was worse than he'd been in for a while, bad as that has been. For two days he insisted "never again", and finally changed that to "only if they put me completely under first." That still sounds like only a "maybe" even if they promise a general.

Of course by the time he got to that point, we were crawling  down the throat of a big holiday weekend. Everybody for whatever he needed was short staffed, all communications mean either fighting with websites he hadn't gotten back with his new hard drive, or being on hold with circular voicemail systems that send one everywhere except to a live person. He finally gave up after long unproductive holds with several of them.

We'll start the process again after the holiday weekend is over, maybe Tuesday with some ambition and a little prodding. Just like we're waiting to see with hopes of hearing Tuesday if we passed our background checks to get into the place we want. Meanwhile, for some perspective, We've been up here 2 1/2 months and Steve has yet to go fishing, despite offers from both friends and family to take him to a good fishing hole.

'Nuff said?

"Agley" Means Postponed Some More

Just don't ask what else can go wrong, please. It's becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The realtor called this morning, informing me that the closing now isn't expected to happen until Wednesday. I don't know if part of it was our documents getting late to the Fed Ex office down there. What I do know for sure is the buyer doesn't have the money... quite yet. So Fed Ex isn't that late after all, despite the notary's delays.

The information she passed on is that they are in the process of getting the needed loan to cover their expenses, but for some unknown reason it's taking an extra two days. "Everybody" is sure it will happen Wednesday, now. There were even addendum documents emailed to us to e-sign and send back, changing the closing date. That's all, just the closing date.

Hmmm, might it be the solar company and title company combined forces to make sure the six month advance payment got paid before closing was allowed to happen? Or was it just some random stupidity?

I'm glad I took the bother to go out and buy a bottle of White Out the other day when we were doing other shopping. The paperwork we have for the park management folks warns us on every page that incorrect information could result in our being refused residency. But they were all filled out with the expectation that the closing would be today, before we meet with them tomorrow. So I get to go very, very carefully through them all, page by page, line by line, to make sure they say what reflects tomorrow's truth... so far.

What fun!

"...Gang Aft Agley"

That's what happens to best laid plans, quoting from the original by Robert Burns, with a nod to my ancestors on the Scottish side of the family. For a while today there seemed to be a serious risk of that happening with the house sale. Plans had been "best laid" for closing in 3 more days, but then we heard from our realtor, and the title company rep, and the solar company.

It started with our realtor in a phone call telling us not to panic from her email.

Email? She sent an email that we missed? What's going on?

We knew that the buyer is an investment company. What we hadn't known is that they'd already sold it off before closing to a second company which sold it off to a third company. (So far, anyway.) Not our problem so long as the house sold without a hitch, right? Except....

There were problems with the solar company connecting with the proper most recent wannabe owner in order to properly transfer the contract on the panels to the people actually in possession of the house. The names kept changing. I kept getting emails asking me to e-sign documents to transfer the contracts, did the e-signing, and turned around to get another request. None of the company names meant anything to me so it was only in retrospect I sort of noticed the names were different. I was paying more attention to the dates referred to for the contract I was to sign, since there were two, years apart.

                               Totally superfluous columbine pic

We had already arranged with the title company for a notary to stop at this house this afternoon so Steve and I could sign the 5 tons of paperwork that goes with selling a house. Only in blue, of course, because nobody could fake that with a color copier, right? We were given a window of time within which it would be set up. So most of our realtor's call was to inform us we should go through with our signing this afternoon. If the latest LLC in the buying chain didn't get around to signing the transfer documents, our realtor and the title company connection would be sure that they were not authorized to buy the house. That firm stand would keep us for having to continue payments on the system without having any benefits or control of what happens with it in the future. But sign now, so our side of the documents could get Fed-Exed down to AZ in time for the scheduled signing Monday.

                  Totally superfluous red honeysuckle bush blooms

Meanwhile as I was scouring emails to be alert and ready for any new developments, I got a weird one from the solar company, telling us not to do something which totally perplexed me. It started "Voided. Action Needed." Say what? It wasn't a request to e-sign anything. Those are simple to run through. Was it a refusal by a buyer to take over the solar, something our realtor warned about? What kind of action is needed and by whom and when? Jargon jargon jargon. I forwarded it to our realtor, but haven't heard back. Meanwhile the solar company followed that up with a request to answer a "satisfaction level" survey, between 1 to 5 stars. 

How do I come back with "What the heck are you talking about?"

Our scheduled appointment with the notary was in a window between 11 AM and 2 PM. We were already in that window with no contact from him when the alarms about possible glitches started sounding. Steve overheard just enough of my side of the conversation to get worried, so I handed the phone to him so he could question the realtor. We still hadn't seen nor heard from the notary as the end of the window approached, so Steve went for a nap. By the time our supposed window closed, I contacted via email the woman from the title company who'd set it up letting her know that so far he was a no-show. She emailed back that he'd told her he'd "personally spoken to the sellers letting us know he was going to be here at 2:30."

My reaction to that? "Oh, so we have a C.Y.A. Fibber! Good to know."

            Totally superfluous new cherries forming after petal drop

At 2:30 he finally did call, informing me his last appointment had run extra long, and he was just getting in his car up in North Branch and should arrive in 20 minutes. That turned into about ten after 3, when I woke Steve to come out and sign stuff. We signed, he notarized, explained what a couple lines of legalize meant when we had to say either it was a true or false statement about the transaction, and left a little after 4. On his way out, finishing packing all the pages together, I asked him when the local Fed EX closed.

He hoped it wasn't yet.

Does Fed EX rush documents across the country on weekends so they can arrive in time for our scheduled closing? Or will this also "gang aft agley"? I guess we'll find out Monday.

Bingo!

I've played Bingo since I was a little kid, one of the ways I learned numbers and (5) letters. Growing up on a resort, it was one of the evening entertainments for guests after a presumably long day fishing. (Not catching, necessarily, just fishing.) My parents also offered evenings of canasta, also a good way for a kid to learn numbers before school.

Of course I never won anything, at either kind of game, whether I won or not. Same for my older brother. We were there mostly so our folks could keep an eye on us before bed. We were absolutely not allowed to win. That was reserved for the paying guests. At the time I found it totally unfair, though I found later that it had done a fairly good job of killing my competitive streak in playing games. After all, what was the point? And even if either of us had won, prizes tended to be things like fishing lures. 

Big whoop.... yawn.

I rarely played Bingo over the years since, and even when I did I never won. So where was the fun? (And as for canasta, I promptly forgot the rules. There were other card games.)

Tonight Steve and I went out to dinner at a Muddy Cow restaurant with a friend of his and a couple of his nearly grown sons. It turned out to be Bingo night there. We had finished eating, so did we want to play? Steve had talked about it in the car on the trip down, and we'd decided that, like much of his world, it would depend on how his back was doing. He said it was doing fine, so he paid the buy-in fee for two sets of cards, three each for ten different games. Winning any of the first 9 meant getting a pot of $75, or if there were more winners at the same time, splitting the pot. The final game was Cover-All with a pot of $1,000.

I had no expectations of winning, and it was looking well into the games that my losing streak at Bingo was continuing. Each game we all had 3 cards to play on one strip of paper. Often a number which was called appeared in two of the cards, though of course not in a way which filled in something for a Bingo on my cards. There were games I was familiar with, and some new to me, requiring unusual patterns  with interesting names. About halfway through the game I actually got a Bingo! All by myself, not one to share. Steve got his buy-in fee returned, a tip was left, and I wound up with gas money for the night.

A couple games later, Steve got a Bingo! Unfortunately, his was shared. He also took out a tip  for the staff running the game. Some time between my win and his, we were the only two left at our table. His back was rapidly worsening, but he was determined to stay till the very end and give us our chance to win a grand. The game lasted a long time, being a cover-all, and it was fun between the numbers to exchange updates on how full our cards were getting, watching ordinary but meaningless bingos mount up on our cards. I was so into the fun when that last game started I whispered "Bingo" after the first number was called. Steve was the only person within earshot, but we both got a chuckle. Even with the pain he was in by the time we left, he had a blast. And I managed to end my forever-losing streak.

In the morning he goes to see a new pain doc. We have no idea whether, after everything that has been tried, there is any thing more than can be done to bring some good results. Neither of us is as optimistic of a "win" then as we had tonight.s

This Aurora... Sigh....

Much of the planet got to see the fantastic auroras on the 11th/12th. Photos have been rolling in, to news stations, weather sites, friends and relatives around the world, and SpaceWeather.com. The latter has a fabulous photo gallery you can browse through, including information on where they are from.  Some photos include foregrounds to show just how unusual the locations are, like one with a cactus foreground from Los Vegas, or pyramids (not from Vegas). Palm trees under red skies are common.

Sadly, they were very unimpressive from our spot in MN, wisps of the palest green moving slowly enough that they might as well have been clouds. But people with the latest smartphones were out showing their pictures just taken (from just over that tree there) which were loaded with color, not just green but some reds as well. I also heard stories from a neighbor who'd just gotten home from work who'd seen cars pulled over along the highways and idiots stepping suddenly from between cars without looking for traffic and nearly getting hit. (You know, because even idiots like a good show and if they've survived this long with those bad habits, they must be invulnerable, right?)

While I was the only one out on the street in front looking for better views, all three of us stepped out from the back door, since our backyard is one of the darkest spots in town, and watched them for a bit, so we could say we'd seen them. While we were mostly disappointed, it was the location where my son and I viewed what was my second most spectacular aurora light show in my life.

It was in the very early 90s, shortly after moving in. The color was an amazing, a brilliant green that covered the entire sky. Unlike this recent one, it came in ribbons and waves, not standing still but dancing wildly over the sky, now waves, now curtains, now crossing the entire view and heading back again, serpentine all the way. It was so ferociously active that I thought it must be making a roar, though we couldn't hear it. I tried calling nearby family, but nobody was answering their phones that late.

As spectacular as that was, the best aurora ever comes from my early teenage years, when we lived in Park Rapids, up in the north country. I was in the band, and thus attended sporting events for the school. Indoor events we had spots on the bleachers, outdoors we marched on the field in a variety of formations during halftime. This night was just before Homecoming, when tradition required a huge bonfire and burning an effigy of the opposing team. I'd never been to one before, had no expectations, and initially was just glad I had a reason to get out of the house. The band director required it, or I wouldn't have been allowed to attend. 

After lots of rah-rah stuff, speeches on how we were going to clobber their team, school song by the band, the rest was party, i.e., lighting the fire. As if it were made to order, by the time the flames reached the top of the pile and the effigy, the sky opened up with matching pink/red auroras. I mean the whole sky, not a stripe or two here and there. Somebody turned a mirror upside down on top of the flames, as if the sky agreed with our purpose and celebrated along with us.

Of course, being a kid back then, as indelible as the visual impression still is, I have no clue who won Homecoming that year.

It doesn't Get Much More FUBAR!

When you move you forward your mail, right? We did that and started getting our mail in MN. Then... we quit getting it. The forwarding system has worked for decades or longer, perfectly well. It followed us when we moved, It followed us north in the summer and back south in the fall when we were snowbirds. Recently the paperwork changed, going online was not so much a service as a requirement, and postal staff were prohibited from assisting us, until eventually you even had to pay to change your address. In short, it became annoying, but still functioned. Mostly.

Now it's broken.

I got this weird notice a few days back, telling me that per my request - supposedly - mail was being sent back to Arizona. Steve didn't get one. It was so weird and things were so chaotic still, that I mentally filed it under a mistake, nonsense.

WTF? What request? But mail we'd been expecting just wasn't arriving. Steve needs a replacement bank card.  His new handicap hanger for parking. I need a SS replacement card. A check or two. And a driver's license. And... and... and by now who knows what else? At least most of my bills are announced online and paid online.

With the sale of the house even more documents are likely to get into dead letter hell. Hell for us anyway, even if not for them.

A call to our realtor on an different topic this evening brought up the fact that she had a couple pieces of our mail recently delivered to the old house. One from Steve's bank, another from an auction company which owes me two checks, though this one should be small. She informed us they had been addressed to the northern address but forwarded back to the old one, dropped through the door mail slot, and handed over to her by another realtor doing a showing. She'd been planning to send them up, but when I expressed frustration with missing mail, let me know that first she'd head back over to see what else might have accumulated since then. In order to avoid a repeat of the endless travel circle, we requested she address the new fuller envelope to my son, the permanent resident we're living with who hasn't forwarded mail to my knowledge since he finished military training decades ago. It should get here without being diverted yet again. Maybe more we're waiting for will be there and some problems will be solved.

Meanwhile, tomorrow morning we'll head to the post office. At least in tiny towns they'll actually talk to you rather than pushing you ASAP through the line. I'm hoping we can get ideas of how to actually get our mail and KEEP getting it. Especially since we'll be changing our address one more time in a month or two, hopefully for good. We will need to know it won't be reversed on us through whatever kind of mischief.

For Wild Weather, A Lightning Map

I'm a person who orients myself mentally in relation to where I am on a map. I've driven most of the state, and good bits of other states when traveling. I don't do GPS, I'm a map person all the way.

I also love to follow weather. I love following the changing shapes and colors of weather radar maps, especially when I can watch movements of weather systems and work to figure out my personal chances of experiencing rain or snow at any given time. Where I live right now is a spot where radar is often wrong about where precipitation is falling, often claiming it's overhead when it's not. This happens to be the high spot of the county I'm in, which has the effect of parting weather systems so they pass to the side. We still get weather, but often watch it go around, no matter in which direction it's traveling. 

Of course climate change is showing effects. The last couple years were pretty dry here, and now this spring is pretty wet, not in a bad way, at least not yet this spring, but nourishing the ground without damaging what sits on it.

Much of the country is not so lucky. There's more heat to our south, so more energy, resulting in record numbers of tornadoes the past few weeks. We're still cool enough here to avoid those, so far. Heat is coming, of course. We're not immune here. In a practical sense, it's a good thing we have so little severe summer weather. But from my personal point of view, I happen to love a good thunderstorm, with lots of lightning all around, or at least as long as I can watch it from shelter. I had a screen porch added to the west side of the house after it was built, not only to keep mosquitoes out, but to allow a view of storms rolling in... or mostly passing by.

I recently got introduced to a new kind of map online which is a great indicator of the severity of storms on this planet. Mine opens with our state in the center, probably because the internet knows where our wifi router is. The map can be persuaded to move to other areas, even crossing oceans. It shows lightning strikes in real time.

They start as a tiny red dot, expanding to a small circle with a yellow center. Then they sit on the map for a while, until overlaid by another strike or bunch of strikes. I don't know how long it takes for them to go away, but since they stick around you can get a really good idea of how widespread the storm is. The change in shape/color draws the eye to the most recent strikes, and how fast they get replaced plus how wide the strikes spread out give you a good idea of the activity level in the storm you're tracking.

Mostly the map will show a narrow red/yellow band with very sparse activity. The recent tornado outbreaks in the central plains give a much wilder picture, with ball shaped clusters of strikes within a huge irregular pattern of them, or traveling rows of them, as if each strike prompted the next, prompting the next, even sometimes unceasing piles hitting over and over in the same locations. Around midnight this morning Tennessee was almost completely covered, extending into neighboring states, with such a level of activity it was like watching colored popcorn popping nonstop. Come back 5 minutes later, same thing. Thirty minutes later, still going strong with maybe a hint of directional movement or spread from where you first saw it. There is a tiny window inside the program that you can click on to animate it, allowing you to see the long term movement of storms you were watching.

I presume the morning news will have more weather damage reports similar to the last few days.

The map can be tricky to navigate, something that only gets worse if you leave a tab open and return after a few minutes to see what's changed. My built in mouse pad is oversensitive as a navigation tool, sending me wildly off in random directions and changing the map's size unpredictably. I quickly learned to navigate using only the keyboard arrows: up down left and right. If left alone while I'm using other tabs, when I return I might find it traveling by itself to places off the map completely, and have to close out and reopen to start over. Those are minor irritations, and may well be me and not the software... except it only happens here. I find it worth figuring out the workaround.

So if you want a fascinating new view of what's happening when wild weather is really happening, I recommend this source:  

https://www.lightningmaps.org/#m=oss;t=3;s=0;o=0;b=;ts=0;z=5;y=44.8403;x=-91.8018;d=2;dl=2;dc=0;

 

 

Offer And Counter Offer

We think we've sold the house!

It's been quite a journey, ups and downs, long waits , and finally quick action. It's a compromise, and there are still almost two weeks until the deal is final, money in the bank. 

It turns out we're not all that patient. We settled for less than we wanted, and settled again, and watched the calendar pages turn and deadlines approach. But it should be enough to pay for the new place outright, furnish it as needed, utility over luxury, and continue to live fairly comfortably for a dozen years. Of course, best laid plans....

Sitting on the house is costing us money. Utilities still have to be paid. This month the water bill went up, not from use, but because it's a desert and water rates went up... again. Use or no use. Period. Until ownership is transferred, utilities have to be kept on to prove they work. Insurance needs to be maintained. We're also paying something here in MN, because we're using water, gas and electricity, and my son's bills are higher while we stay. It's the thing to do. On top of that, there's an increase in gasoline over our regular usage level because we're filling the car tank almost weekly instead of once a month. Perhaps "filling" is a bit of an exaggeration, and "topping off" is more accurate. A nearby larger town is having gas wars so we take advantage when we're in it. We're also more conscious of our trips when the grocery store with best prices is more than the mile away we're used to.

It was a busy weekend in house viewings, our realtor informed us. The house was finally getting more appreciation for its "bones" than criticism for its lack of the latest high end decorating, at the now lower price. One person liked it but hadn't secured financing yet, and had to go talk to his money-man, an uncle. (I never had one of those. Did you? My relatives couldn't/wouldn't pop for a new house for me.) A real estate company put in the best solid offer in the end. The better offer financially also came with the fewest caveats and the shortest time span. Both would take it "as is" while a third party expressed interest but dithered about asking for improvements on our part before buying. It seems they "couldn't afford paint" among other things. 

The offer we accepted was both the highest and fastest, giving us 3 days to accept/reject, including a firm price even before inspection, no repairs needed, 5 days for them to come up with the standard  $2K escrow, (we only put $100 down in 2012 when we bought it) and closing on the 20th, in cash. That means financing is already secure on their end, not a suitcase of, say, $100 bills, in case that was your first mental image from watching too many TV crime shows. Being a realty company, they already know what is skin deep and what is changeable. We'd had one lower offer - the guarantee, just in case - who wanted to fix it up as a rental, and I have no idea if the offer we accepted is the same kind of plan or they are looking for a nice profit once the house is "prettier". I never presume they want to live there themselves.

We gave a counter offer of 3 days for them to come up with the escrow instead of 5. Or rather, our hard working realtor put that on the table, where it was verbally accepted. Last night she emailed us the contracts for our e-signatures, a surprisingly easy process we're getting used to, and we looked them over while clicking in all the right little pink boxes for initials or a full signature automatically filled in, depending on what was needed. At the end we just had to click a box which only appeared acknowledging we'd not missed any spots or we'd have to go back to see what we'd missed, telling us we'd completed the process. While I was trying to figure out what I still needed to do to send the forms back to our realtor, we got emails back letting us know they were received, and click here, here, or this other space to get or own copy of the contract as signed back in our email. I picked one and it began loading... and loading... and loading... all 30 pages! No wonder I'd missed one of the boxes the first time through.

In case you wonder, the contract itself isn't that long, but it includes copies of all the paperwork we'd filled out back when we hired our realtor, everything about the house, what kind(s) of pipes where, who has the solar contracts, who had the termite control contract, when X, Y, and Z were replaced or repaired, or in one case, not, and so forth. The "not" was for the gas fireplace. It was never used, and finally a couple years back did not light when the gas company did an appliance check once we returned from vacation before turning gas back on. It's "yellow tagged" so nobody will return gas to it before suitable repairs are made, whether a simple cleaning or a parts replacement. We left it unused, unfixed. It's declared in the forms so any buyer can't come back to us demanding a repair, unless they do it in the original offer. "As is" is a wonderful offer for us. The more months we wait, the sooner the extra expenses eat into our reserves.

The final part of the offer, the one possible bit of insecurity for us, is their actual signing, plus the final payment being due the 20th. If the final payment falls through, we get the $2K, and our house is back on the market. Start again. At least with a realty company giving an "as is, cash" offer, it's fairly likely to go through.

So the only hitch, once that goes through, is getting my SS card replacement in the mail. I was told when I went to their Minneapolis office that it would take "a week or two". I've been checking the mailbox religiously since the first week was over, more than 10 days ago. Until that card arrives, I can't make a photo copy for the park's management office so they can do our background checks and approve us to live in the park. 

Want to guess how patiently we'll be waiting for that, now?

Some Warnings For When Selling Your House

It's been an emotional roller coaster. First there was the long delay before legally evicting our "renter" after we left. Somehow we neglected to send official paperwork five months earlier when we decided to move and sell that they were required to be gone along with their stuff. (Who knew?) 

Consider that your first warning. Check your state's laws on the topic, and note the only qualification for needing the delay to kick them out post notification is they are a human who's been in residence. Doesn't even matter if they've paid. Things changed after covid.

So, we were already well behind how we'd planned for best market timing, early spring when the desert starts to bloom and temperatures are wonderful. We were also way behind in being able to repair and paint to give the best appearance to people walking in to look around. Just one example: the living room floor was painted concrete with a pair of expensive and beautiful area rugs on it with furniture either on or around the outside of those rugs. Those were packed very shortly before we moved out, but we had no real access to the floor to repaint it so it looked nice between then and when we left, naively thinking our renter was also about to leave on our schedule. With the fancy rugs removed, flaws in the paint for unknown reasons, like those four holes in a square pattern where no furniture had been during our 12 years there to put pressure and friction on the surface to pull off the paint, suddenly showed up. We never really had access to that bare, flawed surface to paint it before leaving. Furniture around the house hid developing flaws, and without furniture there was no way for us to remain: no chairs, no beds, etc. Even when we left the floor was cluttered with our renter's stuff, while our minds were cluttered with empty promises to us to remove it.

Six weeks later it finally went on the market. The wheels of justice grind slow. In our case, this also meant that snowbirds had mostly returned to their northern homes. Those down  for the spring bloom and likely some pickle ball or golf to help persuade them it should become an annual event had already canvassed the available market, and decided to buy or not. Either way, they were also back north.

There are still some buyers out there. The house gets showings every so often. Our hopes get raised, then... nobody is the right person. You know, the one who can actually picture living in a home that has no furniture, can't see the traffic flow, need somebody else's perfect plan to claim as their own. Just like on the TV shows where some other "expert" tells them how they "have to" decorate.

Our realtor tries to keep us encouraged, that someday the right buyer will come along. But we found our next perfect place, totally empty of furniture so it will have our own stamp on it, meet our needs, keep us comfortable. It also comes with a deadline to buy it. And every day that there's a showing in Arizona and no progress is another day or five closer to our deadline. That's our roller coaster.

She's done things for the house to help it look better, help people think it's an OK place to move into. When one potential buyer started measuring and pricing the cost of tearing out a couple walls, including an exterior one with a 4" drop to the continuation of the floor, she didn't say a word about how crazy an idea that was, how it was an invitation to falls, how much new support would have to go into the project just to make it look like some TV project. It didn't take more than a week for that person to figure how difficult and expensive - OK, let's go with "crazy" here - an idea that was. She backed out, citing too much stress.

I'm going with "too little budget to remake over half a house without bringing it down on her head."

We got feedback from people who didn't like the house and thought it was over priced. We dropped the price. We dropped it again, incidentally after another trip to our hopeful new place where we fell even more in love with it. Now feedback came back that people still didn't like the house but it was priced OK. Our roller coaster swung to "should we drop it more?" Even, "would we be crazy to ask if that initial severely lowball bid is still an offer?"

Our realtor suggested we hold of on any more dropping of price for a while. See what happens.  Then she added something surprising, saying there were other problems than price in that lowball offer. I'll quote her here:

"I don’t believe the offer for $205K was “real”. It’s sort of a long story, but I will try to make it short. These “investors” hand out “proof of funds” letters to literally just anyone. These “Pseudo Buyers” run around with realtors and put in offers on homes. The reason the contract said “and or nominee” on it was because the “Pseudo Buyer” tries to present it to this investment firm or tries to find someone who will buy it and then they “assign" the contract to the “real buyer”. Then the investment company will throw the “Pseudo Buyer” a bone and give them a few thousand dollars if they end up actually buying the home. If the “Pseudo Buyer” doesn't find a “nominee" they can assign the sale to, they simply cancel on the very last day of the inspection period. They drag out the inspection period as long as possible (to the very last day) and make you sweat bullets and then on the last day of the inspection period (day 10) they demand thousands of dollars for repairs. It’s awful. At that point sooo much time is wasted the Seller feels like a sitting duck and succumbs to their unreasonable demands. Unfortunately, I learned about these tactics the hard way. It was the worst I ever felt in 25 years of real estate and unfortunately my clients were both blind and trying to deal with this nonsense. Anytime you see “and or nominee” on a real estate contract it’s a huge red flag. Plus their letter said they have 3 million to spend, which equals mega hard core scammers. We don’t have time to waste on this type of thing….

"We need a “real” Buyer(s), sincere about your home that will actually close on it, so you get your money and can get into your amazing new place. :-)  Keep you posted."

 

She had more to say about possibilities to keep us from getting stuck in a worst possible outcome. But at least now we know what else to avoid, and have something to count on so we can move on in a timely manner. I never heard these kind of things from my father, himself a realtor for quite a few years. He never talked shop at home. I assumed a lot about selling a house and how easy it "should" be, and indeed, previous homes I've lived in after leaving the nest never ran into any of those problems. I'm just passing this along so you might remember things to avoid or plan ahead for if you decide to sell your home. 

At least, whatever comes, we have a place to crash in until all the dust settles. Which may not happen as needed if the mail system doesn't get more prompt about sending documents our way to replace the ones "somebody"   (ahem) packed up and left in storage 1800 miles away.