Since I'm one of the 4.4 million homeowners who is eligible for the Independent Foreclosure Review, I'm also one of the 4.4 million who have waited till the dead last minute to participate.
The first notices for the IFR were sent out a little more than a year ago, in November 2011. By that time I had tried getting Zen on the ordeal, but the IFR did raise my brows. I dared to dream.
Throughout this past year I've gotten one or two notices from the IFR - and read that there had been such a weak response a full-on advertising campaign had been created, complete with full-page ads in newspapers and billboards.
So an editorial showed up in today's New York Times entitled , "The Mortgage Challenge." It's not a "bad" piece but I don't think it focuses on quite enough direct assistance for borrowers. The bottom line is that nothing is going to fix this "crisis" for borrowers other than litigation. You can "modify" loans from here to eternity and, in doing so, you may keep borrowers in their homes. But, so far, nothing other than down and dirty litigation is going to actually correct the broken chains of title. Thrity years and 6 days from now, when Mr. Smith has made his final payment and suddenly gets a knock on his door from someone claiming to be the real note holder and they ask where their money is, it's not going to be pretty.
Last week, we heard someone walking around in the back yard and the dog was going crazy. Then someone started pounding on the front door. We felt really nervous! Was this the sheriff?
When I had my landscaper dig up all of my rose bushes, he misunderstood me and stopped service. I figured we would be out at least within a month, so didn’t bother to correct him. We had gotten a letter from the HOA regarding the overgrowth of the front yard and called him to come back and simply mow the grass.
Oy, has it been so long? My days have been an endless mash of arising, going to work, and packing. I’ve made time to do a few fun things, but time seems to slip away from me every day.
Gosh, life is funny sometimes. How different things can look when we just flip the telescope in the opposite direction. Wasn’t it just a few months ago that I was dreading having the sheriff ring my doorbell? Well, now I’m anxious to have my doorbell rung! After weeks of waiting, packing in preparation, and living with towers of boxes around my home and only a minimum of necessities, it is almost agonizing to be in such suspense, knowing it’s coming, but not knowing when.
Still waiting. There’s nothing quite like rushing to meet a deadline when you don’t know what the deadline is. It’s not the end of the world or anything, just that moving can be stressful. In fact, moving is considered one of the most stressful life events. More stressful than that is losing a home to foreclosure, on some scales.
But, really, why does putting our stuff in boxes and turning our lives upside down for a few weeks create so much stress? For most people, they already know where they are moving to. I have no idea yet where I’ll wind up. However, every other time I’ve moved has been stressful, even when I’ve been excited about moving.
