No one really knows what a HUD is, but we at least know that it’s an oversized piece of paper. This is called Legal Size paper by people who work in offices, even though the Court doesn’t use Legal Size any more. In fact, the only people who really still use Legal Size paper are real estate attorneys and banks. They’re a stubborn bunch.
As I was saying, a HUD is an oversized piece of paper with lots of columns which are filled with cryptic terminology and monetary figures in pt. 9 font size. Bankers really like to argue about the numbers and whose column they belong in.
On MY HUD there is a $40.00 charge and no onereally knows what it’s for, but no one wants to be responsible for having it in their column.
It’s the Hot Potato of the HUD world, this $40.00.
I’m thinking that it’s something I’ve already paid for, and I say so, but the settlement attorney assures me that just because I happen to be the receptionist at his office, doesn’t mean I’m supposed to be taking part in purchasing my home. That’s what professionals are for. Don’t I know that?
The settlement attorney is doing this as a favor. By the time it’s over, my happy home purchase will have been such a pain in the ass, he’s wishing he’d charged me double.
So, my lender says the bank which id selling the property is responsible for the $40.00, and the bank selling the property says my lender is responsible for the $40.00. Apparently, it’s a deal breaker and no one will budge. I offer to havethe $40.00 put in my own column.
I’m told that I must come from Jupiter. What was I thinking? Finally, I say “just put the damn forty bucks in the lender’s column and I’ll just pay them $40.00.” This is agreed to, reluctantly, by my attorney.
Before ever reaching this point, however, I had to have my house inspected for multiple lurking catastrophes; structural soundness, termites, wiring, the works.
Everything goes blissfully well until the cistern is inspected.
I could literally hear the screech of mental tires stopping when we got to this point.
See, cisterns are not that common.
A cistern is a tank into which the rainwater from your gutters is deposited. From there, it goes through a filtration system in the basement, and then up to your faucet.
The inspector tells my bank and my bank has a heart attack. My bank tells the underwriter and the underwriter has a massive brain aneurism.
I am told that this is a problem, and my closing attorney tells the seller (a bank, since this is a Short Sale) and the selling bank has some sort of seizure and threatens to pull the plug on the whole deal and just go ahead and foreclose on the property like they were about to anyway.
A week goes by, and the parties all recover in the mental ICU.
Someone in the County is called, and I’m told there has to be a raised lip with a locking lid installed on the cistern, instead of covering it with a metal slab and a cinder block.
I’m ok with this, its what I would have done anyway. This is accomplished and the property is inspected again. This time, the inspector says I have to have some kind of fancy UV light installed in the filtration system.
The inspector tells my bank and my bank has a heart attack. My bank tells the underwriter and the underwriter has a massive brain aneurism.
I am told that this is a problem, and my closing attorney tells the seller and the selling bank has some sort of seizure and threatens to pull the plug on the whole deal and just go ahead and foreclose on the property like they were about to anyway.
I fork up $500.00 of my hard earned cash, and have the UV light thing installed.
Now,here is the catch.
I achieved homeownership by way of a USDA Rural Development Loan, which is not a FHA loan, or something like that, so it only has to be approved through the underwriter and USDA, and FHA is not required to ok it for mortgage insurance because I can…oh I don’t know, some technical crap like that, but basically, its more lenient through a USDA Loan.
The house is also under Short Sale; in this case, the owner hasn’t been paying the mortgage so his bank is threatening to foreclose, but they are trying to sell it for less than what it was appraised for during the peak of the housing bubble.
So the selling bank is being about as patient as a horny virginal groom waiting for his new bride to brush her teeth and come to bed already.
So the proposal is submitted again to the USDA, who promptly informs us that they are now OUT OF MONEY for the USDA Loan, but that they will have more in about two weeks.
My bank tells the underwriter and the underwriter has a massive brain aneurism. I am told that this is a problem, and my closing attorney tells the seller and the selling bank has some sort of seizure and threatens to pull the plug on the whole deal and just go ahead and foreclose on the property like they were about to anyway.
Sound familiar?
So we decide, since my credit is good, to try an FHA loan anyway, since they are fast. It goes through with flying colors. People are popping champagne corks, and everyone gets into town to meet for the settlement, when literally in the eleventh hour, the FHA people send an email with some archaic regulation about freaking cisterns, stating that I have to work some sort of extra cash into escrow to pay for maintenance or some crap like that.
My bank tells the underwriter and the underwriter has a massive brain aneurism. I am told that this is a problem, and my closing attorney tells the seller and the selling bank…yeah you get the picture.
We start looking into how to accomplish all this escrow stuff, which requires the HUD tobe revised, which creates more Hot Potatoes that no one wants in their column of .004 size font.
At this time, the 3 month contract of sale on the house expires and we have to resubmit it.
The seller’s bank starts to threaten the whole foreclosure crap again, and my realtor, the most awesome woman on the planet, by the way, gets her bulldog attitude ramped up, and goes after the seller’s bank like they’re raw chicken.
My attorney gets out his voodoo dolls, works some kind of mojo that they teach you in law school, and between the two of them, they convince the selling bank to sign an extension to the Contract of Sale before going ahead and foreclosing on the property like they were about to anyway.
Time passes. Enough time that the USDA proudly announces that they have funding for my loan again.
We scrap the FHA application and resubmit the USDA Loan one.
The Settlement date is set.
After 4 months of constant struggle and pains in the asses of all involved, me, the attorney, the seller, and my real estate agent meet.
Papers are signed and dated, keys are given, and I pay $40.00 for something listed in a font so small that I can’t even read it.
God Bless America.
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