So remember that random tax thing that was holding up closing escrow on our new house? Well. It turned out that the IRS wanted a little more information about our health insurance deduction, specifically what percentage was spent on me and what was spent on Mike. When the IRS wants more information on a tax return, they freeze it, meaning your return isn’t entered into their system as “filed” until they are totally satisfied with everything. According to the IRS officials (who have been exceedingly nice) that we speak with on a daily basis, our taxes should be filed and official in four to six weeks.

Unfortunately, that means we cannot close escrow on the house. So yesterday, the day we were supposed to take possession of the house, we instead filled out paperwork canceling the contract.

It all fell through. No house.

Mike’s post goes into a bit more of the problems we had closing escrow. Mike has been awesome through all of this. My strengths are budgets, people, and mentally decorating. Mike is patient, understands contract jargon, and can do math in his head like some kind of robot. But with me being so sick for a week now, he’s had to pick up the extra load. He dealt with the loan officer, escrow, realtors, and the IRS while I would lift my head and feebly whisper,  “I will break their knees…with a tire iron.” Then I would vomit.

It’s been a draining experience. The good news is that we ARE getting our deposit back. That’s the only good news. We are so utterly disappointed. Our apartment is full of boxes, bubble wrap, and storage tubs. I have a three-ring binder full of measurements and diagrams of each room with possible furniture arrangements. My mind is full of all the good times we were going to have in that house – baking cookies with Annabel, having our first Christmas at home, teaching her to ride a bike, and bringing home another baby. Are we going to still have these experiences? Absolutely. But I have to get over the total letdown that it won’t be happening in that house.

We’re lucky, we still have our apartment and our health. Well, everyone else has their health, mine seems to be exiting out of my body in alarming new ways. I keep telling myself that once all this tax nonsense gets worked out we’ll find something better. But I’m always going to be sad about the sweet little house on the corner that should have been ours.

front of house with numbers blurred