Grump Central Logbook: Week of 20 May 2018
Saturday, 26 May. As I'd expected, there's been radio silence since my announcement on Tuesday that the contract would be cancelled if there was no progress on the tax and foreclosure issues. I must assume either everyone is too busy getting the problems solved to reply, or I'm not being taken seriously. If the latter, they're in for a surprise. Meanwhile, I'm stuck with another weekend—a holiday weekend, no less—of waiting. I really hate weekends. And holidays.
Friday, 25 May. Received another warning about my home property taxes—obviously that problem isn't fixed yet. But regardless if
there's been progress or not, very likely I won't hear about it until
Thursday, 24 May. No response. No surprise. But I am wondering what sort of chaos the little bomb I dropped last Tuesday has invoked. I may—or may not—find out tomorrow afternoon. If not, there will be hell to pay.
Wednesday, 23 May. I have had it. Yesterday I told my lawyer to cancel the contract EOB this Friday if the buyers do not provide proof that all issues (taxes, foreclosure, etc.) have been resolved, and he has agreed. The buyers can try to sue me if they want; I've nothing left to lose, so they need to weigh the cost of a lawsuit against the cost of their agreements, for which to date they've demonstrated nothing but contempt. Things could get ugly. Ask me if I care.
Tuesday, 22 May. Still no news. I've lost count how many of my messages have gone unanswered. I'm beginning to suspect my lawyer might be in on the scam, too—in darkness, one can find demons everywhere. And after a single day of sunshine, we're back to more clouds and rain.
Monday, 21 May. Back to the waiting game. Not sure which is worse, bad news or no news when I know bad things are going on. The only positive for now is the return of Mr. Sun.
Sunday, 20 May. Well-meaning friends offer all manner of suggestions on how to address the situation. And I'm grateful for their support. But there are no options available to me; I'm legally locked in, and the consequences of taking any action to break out are far worse than those if I just sit tight. More than anyone, I understand that doing nothing seems incredibly, infuriatingly frustrating, but it is what it is. Next month it will be three years. Unbelievable.
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