Dower

Did you know that Ohio is a dower state?

I didn't either. At least, I didn't until 2:00pm on Friday, August 13. It was at that time that I arrived to close on the house I was attempting to buy for our family. I say "I" because the loan is in my name, the house is in my name, it's all on me.

Of course, I'll let Tom live there. It's just how I am. But our house in Indiana is fully in his name and so we decided I'd get the loan for the one we are buying in Ohio.

Except...Ohio is a dower state. Which, according to the guy who was there to facilitate the closing of this deal, dates back to the 'olden' days when women weren't allowed to own property. It also means Tom needed to be at the closing to sign some documents even though the loan was fully in my name. Yeah, pretty much, he had to give permission for me to buy this house.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I'm starting at the end of the story (or the beginning of the next one? Hmmm...)

The beginning of the HOUSE SAGA goes back to April when I was pre-approved for a home mortgage all by myself. I know! So adult of me. The day after I was pre-approved, with pre-approval letter in hand, I clicked away at realtor.com looking at house after house in our price-range. I was staying below what my lovely banker told me was my limit because...well, I don't want to spend one paycheck a month on a mortgage. I just don't. I want to be able to have a house AND still send the girls to gymnastics, and buy them shoes, and feed them the occasional take-out pizza instead of a constant diet of ramen noodles and canned peas.

So the second day of looking on-line for houses I found the house. I found the place that was just far enough out in the country to suit Tom but still close enough everything else that I wasn't going to trade a 65 mile commute to and from work for a 45 mile commute to the closest grocery store.

It had four bedrooms, two and a half baths. It was on one acre of land, which meant no more mowing than we already do. It had TWO buildings other than the attached two-car garage. TWO!! There was a detached garage and a barnish type building. This was more perfect than I could have ever imagined. This was the storage Tom wanted for his ebay items. This house had everything we could ask for.

I called the realtor the next day.

There was an accepted offer on the house. Done deal.

My search resumed.

I looked a houses in Indiana, I looked at houses in Ohio. I looked and nothing was right.

April turned into May. May turned into June.

At the end of June, I emailed the realtor who told me about the offer on the house I'd dreamed of.

The sign was still in the yard. There was no sign of anyone moving in. What was up?

He replied that next day. That deal? Had fallen through that morning. Did I want to look at the house?

OMG!! YES! We did, indeed, want to look at the house. Please, please let us look at the house.

It was dirty from being empty for over a year. It needed some repairs but most were cosmetic. There was water in the FULL basement, but again, that could be taken care of.

We put in an offer that day.

Three days later, the bank that owned the house countered.

My realtor and Tom got into the competition of the thing. We countered their counter.

Tom and the realtor forgot that the house was the prize. That even the asking price was a good deal for a house that size (2600 square feet!)

They made another counter offer. We did too.

And they declined...because there was another offer on the table, closer to the asking price.

I felt sick to my stomach. We'd lost the house. I prayed for peace. There was nothing we could do at this point so I just wanted that sick feeling to go away. My realtor felt awful, or so he said. Tom was frustrated but understood that we'd countered one too many times.

The realtor called back a few days later. There were some problems with the financing on the other offer. Did we want to put in a back-up offer?

We did.

They accepted. It was going to be ours...

Except now we had to start the inspections and loan application and get papers signed and septics looked at and oh wow, did you know that once your offer is accepted your realtor feels like his job is done? And you're sort of on your own now as you search for pest inspectors and septic inspectors and public records of constructions? Did you know that? I didn't. I was a first-time home buyer. I was clueless.

I'm lucky I had such an experienced realtor to remind me that this was MY deal and so I could do all the work at getting it to go through.

And so I did. I worked. And I prayed. I fell to my knees a few times in prayer because this was insanity and I was absolutely going to lose my mind if denied devine intervention.

The loan process began. It went smoothly. We got everything in that they asked for. Even a copy of the check/deposit slip for $5000 they required to make sure we hadn't gone to a place like Check Into Cash to get that money.

We paid $300 for some guy to come inspect the entire house. His inspection was worthless. He'd been recommended by the realtor. We called in a separate pest inspector, who, for $150 noted on his inspection report there was minimal MOLD on the drywall in the basement. We called another pest inspector who didn't mention the mold but did mention bore beetles. That $200 was an inpsection we officially waived even though we'd paid him to treat the bore beetles.

We found a speptic dude who came and pumped the tank and gave us a report for $300 saying that everything was where it should be.

We were ready to close on August 6.

On August 5, I got a call from the bank. They needed something more from the septic guy. He sent them a hand-written note that said that the septic system that was on the property was not sufficient for a hosue this size!

OMG I was seriously, truly going to lose my mind at this point.

My realtor called to tell me this news. He said the septic guy was screwing us over.

He suggested I call the county health department, where they'd have record of the septic installed when the house was built in 1995. While on the phone, his boss suggested HE make that call. I know, imagine that.

So he called. And the lady he needed to talk to wasn't there. She wouldn't be back until Monday.

The realtor's boss wrote up an extention for the closing, giving us another week.

I called the bank, asked them to send me exactly what they needed from the septic fella. I asked the bank if it was okay if I typed up something for the septic guy and had him sign it. They okayed that plan.

I did. I typed up a report for him, faxed it to him, called him, asked him to check the fax machine, told him who I was, who my husband was and reminded him of exactly which house he was reporting on.

He signed the report, faxed it back to me and I emailed it to my bank. And I waited, praying the entire time. If only for peace because this was insane.

And Monday came, then Tuesday.

Then Wednesday and the bank called. The paperwork had been sent to the underwriter. We were setting up the closing for Friday, August 13. What time did I want?

I suggested morning. They set it up for 2pm.

Whatever.

Thursday afternoon, I called the bank to find out how much I needed to bring to closing. I was informed I'd need to bring a cashiers check for whatever amount they told me but they couldn't actually tell me right then because, at 4:40 the lady who was figuring the amount was out to lunch.

Really? Really...

And that cashiers check? Had to come from the bank in which I held the money I was using to purchase the cashiers check. Which was an hour away from where I was at that moment.

I called Tom. He'd bring the cashiers check to me the next morning, before I headed off to the closing.

And he did. Of course, this was after the bank called mat 5:45 that evening to tell me the closing amount.

The next morning, my realtor called me to see if I knew how much I needed to bring. Yeah, got it, thanks.

So...I arried at 2pm to close and was asked where my husband was.

He was an hour away because NO ONE TOLD US he needed to be there to sign a few documents at the closing because of this DOWER law.

The realtor at least looked a little sheephish and admitted that he'd known about this and should have mentioned it. You think? Really?

I called Tom. He, too, was stunned that this was ONE MORE THING our realtor had overlooked. He turned around and headed to the closing.

Once all the papers were signed (by me and Tom) I asked the reator if this meant we were done. He said yes. I asked if we got possession at closing. He said we did.

I asked, "So...do you have the keys?"

He replied, "They're still in the lock box on the door. You know how to get in."

And this ended our association with that realtor. We're not even going to fight with him in an attempt to get hold of the garage door opener remotes. We're going to change the locks and call it good because we moved over the weekend!