503 days ago a realtor came to my house in New England and put a giant FOR SALE sign on my lawn.
Five. Hundred. And three (don’t forget the THREE!). Days ago.
For 397 days I have carried two mortgages. More accurately, for 397 days Otto has graciously both paid the mortgage on our house AND listened to me whine and wail as I paid the other mortgage.
This morning the sale of that house closed. It sold for almost 20% less than the original asking price. My “net proceeds” don’t even cover the conservative loan I took against it so that we could buy THIS house. Negotiating the equity split with my ex was slightly less enjoyable than that time my finger got slammed in a car door.
And none of it matters any more, because it’s over, and I am celebrating. I’d done a pretty bang-up job of repressing exactly how stressful this was, but now I realize I should totally be given a medal just for not becoming a junkie in the last year.