The Labrynth of Mortgage
We're now going through a little bit of stuff getting ready for the closing on the Ohio house. The Buyer's mortgage company just e-mailed me with a copy of a child support lien for someone with the same name as Bob asking for confirmation that it's not Bob. It's not Bob, who does not have a secret other life in Akron and child support payments (if he does have a secret other life in Akron he's developed some technology for splitting himself in two.)
But what a great story idea. There you are, all set up to move, when an unexpected document surfaces proving that you/your spouse has a whole other secret life and child. There you are, surrounded by boxes and on your way to a new chapter. Just perhaps not the chapter you expected.
But what a great story idea. There you are, all set up to move, when an unexpected document surfaces proving that you/your spouse has a whole other secret life and child. There you are, surrounded by boxes and on your way to a new chapter. Just perhaps not the chapter you expected.
posted by Maureen McHugh at 10:43 AM
7 Comments:
Now that would be a total Maureen McHugh story.
(Good seeing you this weekend, however intermittently. Hope it's not too long before I manage a nice leisurely visit to Austin...)
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I suspect that JGroom has software alerting him (or it) to any blog post with the word "mortgage" in it. "Hey, you're talking about mortgages? Don't make any decision until you read about us!"
The story about someone -- almost certainly a wife -- who discovers from mismailed documents about her husband's secret life has in fact been done a fair number of times, usually in pop women's novels. (I think Anita Shreve has done it.) Not that it couldn't always be done well again.
Its that incriminating note from the distant court, threatening to confiscate the sun for non-payment of child support, that tips her off....
How do you prove that your Bob isn't that Bob?
In my secret life I am a slightly overweight housewife in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. That, of course, is a far cry from the reality of my dazzling bi-sexual life as a San Franciscan call girl and political commentator.
(I also know Bob.)
Lucette, amazingly enough, you just say, 'I'm not the one.' Since the last known address wasn't connected to MY Bob, they just said, 'okay. Thanks.'
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