"I always wanted a real home / with flowers on the window sill / But if you want to live in New York City / Hunny, you know I will"
Last Thursday, Dusty and I met with a wanking--oops!--banking institution that told us we would have to plunk down a 35% down payment on a house to qualify for a mortgage. With Edmonton housing prices, that's about $125K. Why? Even though we are an old married couple with decent, stable jobs and zero debt, our credit rating in Canada reflects neither our decent stability nor our stable decency.
"But you guys have an awesome credit rating in America!" some of you exclaim incredulously. Yes, but do we live in America right now? No? Well, there you go. We met with another bank on Friday and we're waiting to see what kind of mortgage deal they can get us. It has to be better than 35% down. It can't be any worse. Can it? (Did I just taunt the Universal Rochambeau Deity? Crap!)
Dusty and I have had more than one Serious Grownup Discussion about this housing debacle ever since we got the "eviction" notice. We were preparing to make the decision on what to do now that we're in the middle of the Canada Years, but we never expected that our hand would be forced like this. We may just end up renting a house again.
We know we need a house, not an apartment or townhouse or condo. We are too old and cranky to share walls. We need a basement so Dusty can have his underground cave, and so we can keep cool during the one week every year when Edmonton gets sweltering hot. We need some semblance of a yard so I can plant tiger lilies, phlox, and rudbeckia, and maybe rhubarb if I'm ambitious. We need permanent Canadian residency so we could get a break on the mortgage. We need to fill out those forms for Canadian permanent residency. We need to have filled them out last year.
You know what I really need? Reducto's shrink gun. I would set it to make myself teeny-tiny so I can camp out in a hollow of Dusty's neck. His neck is soft, cozy, warm... mmm... it smells yummy, too. As long as I can fall asleep every night nestled up in that hollow, I'm all set for shelter.
"But what about Dusty? Where would he live?" some of you demand worriedly. Anywhere he wants, really. Details, details... Just get me a shrink gun.