The (un)Joy of owning a home.

Today, I bought a home.  That's right, after three years of looking, 3 months of negotiations and 6 months of contract hell, I closed on an apartment.  This should be one of those happy days that you put in the books, alongside the day you met your significant other, your wedding day (divorce finalized for some), the births of your kids etc.

So why do I feel like someone climbed down my throat, scooped out my guts, blended them and shoved them all up my ass?




For the last 6 months I have dealt with a stupid, bitter old woman, a young, bitter and out of her league divorce attorney trying to pass herself off as a real estate attorney, a bank that lost collateral, a law firm representing that bank with the reputation as "the second slowest law firm in the city," a coop board that has a set of rules that rival anything anyone's ever seen, a lender that decided, mid deal, to stop lending through independent brokers, a real estate broker who is, for lack of a better word, a douchebag filled with the contents of a dead man's anus, two other real estate brokers who, if a bus were to hit them tonight, I'd know that a god does exist and a variety of other wild card players that managed to create more chaos over the last half year than any one man should have to bear, in two life times.

And, yet, here I am.

Still standing.

Somehow.

Along the way, I threatened to throttle a 70 year old woman.  I dreamed up creative and interesting accidents that might befall a young divorce attorney, prayed to anyone who would listen so that pain and suffering might befall several other people and hoped upon hoped that, if there's another life after this one, that I can come back as some kind of horrible monster so I can haunt those that have haunted me these past few months.

I'm not going to go into all of it.  It's too painful.  Let's just say that, in the end, when the ink was dry and the managing agent for the building handed me a bottle of champagne, I had visions of me bludgeoning the dozen or so people in the room and then, soaked in their blood, bits of blood, brains and gore slowly sliding over my face, bringing that sweet, bubbly nectar to my lips and savoring the moment of victory.

Owning a home is supposed to be a wonderful moment.  I am beaten.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually and, yay, financially.