I promised myself I would not blog about issues surrounding my dad’s estate. The only thing I can say is, sometimes promises beg to be broken.
Yesterday I had the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had. Schleprock is visiting again.
1. The change of address for my dad’s mail didn’t go through, for some strange reason. Note to self: follow through is important.
2. Because the change of address didn’t go through, the letter carrier returned the mail to sender. This would be understandable except for the fact that it is a rather small town, and everybody knows everybody, and I wonder why they just didn’t ask.
3. Because the mail was returned, I wasn’t getting it, and because I wasn’t getting the mail, I wasn’t getting loan statements or insurance statements.
4. Because I wasn’t getting statements, I had no stubs to mail payments with.
5. Because I had no stubs to mail payments with, the mortgage company refused my check (who knew?).
While all the above was going on, the attorneys filed for a probate hearing. Unfortunately, they were given the wrong address for the courthouse, and the wrong paper to run the publication notice in. They submitted the paperwork with incorrect info, and it wasn’t caught until a couple of days prior to the hearing. Thus, they had to file a continuance so they could correct the errors. This effectively changed the probate date from 1/25 to 3/7.
So now I receive a foreclosure notice from the mortgage company. I call to make sure they have received the death certificate. Yes they have, but it doesn’t change the fact that they can’t tell me anything with regards to the account. I have to have the papers from my probate hearing (letters I would have if there hadn’t been that error) to prove I’m in charge (as though someone not in charge would be offering payment in the first place). I explain I’ve made a payment, but they haven’t cashed it. They explain it has to have a coupon from the statement. I explain I don’t have one, but if they tell me the amount I need to pay, I can move it out of it’s delinquent status. They can’t tell me. It’s against the law, they claim. But, they are willing to take a payment over the phone.
Now let me get this straight, I say. You can take a payment over the phone, but you can’t tell me how much? And I can’t provide the papers until I have my probate hearing, of which I have no control over how fast that happens. The guy confirms this. Grrrrr…..
I tell him that is the STUPIDEST thing I’ve ever heard of. He says if I don’t stop swearing he’ll have to hang up.
I blink. My brain comes to a grinding halt. I put it in reverse for a moment thinking over what I just said, massaging every word until I finally land on “stupidest.”
What I want so desperately to say is, “Stupid isn’t a swear word, but dumb-ass most certainly is.” With every ounce of self control I possess, I refrain, and it almost kills me. I conduct my business, hang up the phone, and wonder why Schleprock feels so compelled to share his cloud with me so often. Really? I just don’t need that much rain, as I only plant drought hardy flowers. I’m confident the sun will shine next week. In the meantime, I’m getting a really BIG umbrella.