AS · bankruptcy · Criminal Organizations · Disaster · Homeownership · Insurance · Probate · Therapeutics

The Longest Year

The longest year has actually lasted 18 months and then some. It all started on Earth Day, 2016, when my mom (of blessed memory) laid a tree limb on top of my home. I was sitting in the house, in the bedroom, near Mom’s sewing corner. I heard the limb crack and waited for the whoosh that follows the falling limb when it falls from a height. This time, there was no whoosh, only a thud as the mighty limb laid itself down on my roof and across the two adjacent on the east side of my home.

I dashed outta there like a house afire and immediately called my insurance company, Safeco. It took them more than a week to respond.  The first adjuster was corrupted by MGC Mortgage, the mortgage servicing company that has claimed to hold a mortgage on my property since 2003. Actually, Beal Bank made that claim. I never heard of Beal Bank until probate closed and they started sending me threats to sell my property without notice because they held a Trust Deed.

How do you fight a bank that claims to hold a Trust Deed on your property that was never mentioned in probate? In fact, no claims were made against my mother’s estate, and the only concern of the Court was whether or not I had paid the property taxes. MGC Mortgage paid the property taxes once they were raised too high for me to pay. They opened up an escrow account to gain access to my property when they had no right to do so because they really did not possess a Trust Deed. But the threats were real enough, so I went to a bankruptcy attorney because bankruptcy is the only way to stop a foreclosure, or so I was told.

About six months into this bk, I received payment for the repair of my home. I told my attorney, took him the first check and told him another would follow soon. He copied the check and told me to mail it to MGC, as their name was on the check because they claimed to be a lienholder. Then, the attorney allowed MGC Mortgage and Beal Bank to take the money without putting it into a draw account so that the repairs to my home could commence. Several months later I discovered my attorney never submitted the payment information to the Court, who sent me notice of dismissal for failure to make payments. I wrote the Court directly to tell them I had paid, dearly, and did not understand why the Court was unaware of the payments. MGC Mortgage/Beal Bank corrupted my attorney. He kept the bankruptcy open to collect his fees. I objected, told the Court my story, and his fees were denied, the bankruptcy dismissed.

By this time, my insurance company had moved me to longterm temporary housing. I was only supposed to be there about six months. Turns out I was there 18 months. Nothing recommends living at the beach if you seek quiet. I was housed next door to a senior assisted living facility. The sirens blare two, three times a day and night. Very disturbing and disheartening for me, the living. The apartment itself was 1970s stock, poorly insulated, dusty, dirty in that deep-down dirty that comes of years of use without serious upgrade. Way too much money was paid to house me in that space, but as I am not the moving kind, I sucked it up and stayed. I remained inside for the majority of time I was there. I could go onto the balcony to look at the sea, but there was not much to inspire a need to go out and walk amongst the smokers, the homeless, the stuck-up rich folks, or the neverending dogs. These people are so dog happy they bring the beasts into markets, put them in shopping carts and on check-out counters, and nary a word is said to them. What happened to the law? None of these pocket pooches were service dogs, but employees of the stores are forbidden to even ask if a dog is a service animal. No concern for people allergic to dogs, no protection in the places we have to purchase our food. You are welcome to the beach and the inconsiderate, snotty wankers who live there. (To be fair, I did get to know a few of the people in the complex in which I was housed. They were kind, kept to themselves, and were remotely friendly.)

What I am doing here is writing out my rage. About three months ago, I asked my current insurance claim adjuster about the funds in my account. Nearly $50K was stolen. She told me she would give me the info once she was back in the office, and then proceeded to say nothing for two months. Instead of answering my question, she gave me a final extension on my housing and told me my home was ready for me to move into. When I arrived at my address, I found a mound of dirt in the front yard, a mound of dirt and an open trench in the back yard, a palette for a porch and plywood steps leading into my “brand new house.” My 31 year-old, full of fruit, lemon tree was cut down to accommodate a driveway. A garage had been crammed into a space for which it was never meant to be as my lot is angled in the back, a fact the drafter of the plans failed to take into account. The garage is too close to the house and the driveway is also too close to the house. Had the angle of my lot been accounted for, the garage could have been placed in the front, and my lemon tree, all of my flora could have been saved. My yard has been denuded because of an error that occurred at the beginning of this process. To add insult to this massive injury, the County of Los Angeles wants to add foreign trees to my front yard because they are on the plans. The plans also feature a back door, but I am not allowed to have that. My house resembles a coffin and I quite hate it.

I sent video of the condition of the site to Safeco. My adjuster’s supervisor was out; she knew he would be. Finally, after calling for help all morning, on Shabbos, I was connected with her supervisor’s supervisor. She arranged for an extension of housing, but that would require me to go back to the beach. That had become untenable. So, now I am back in short-term housing at the Residence Inn. And I still have gotten no information about the funds remaining to complete the project. I feel like I am being managed, and that I am being forced to return to the coffin before all work is completed.

I want my adjuster fired, like the first one was. I wonder if Safeco has any agents I can trust. I am absolutely furious about the gaslighting and abuse I have experienced over this, the longest year of my life. Hope I survive.

 

 

 

AS · observations · Religion · social observation · Therapeutics · time · trauma

Yom Tov

What does it mean that we are here, now, seeing what we see?

What does it mean that I am aware of the Rohingya, fleeing their lands, en masse; to know, and care, that one-third of Bangladesh is submerged; that 91 people a day die of opiate abuse?

What does it mean that corporations have gutted Puerto Rico’s finances and the island looks like NOLA during Katrina, only more widely spread, people, American citizens, again struggling against unbelievably horrible odds?

What does it mean that I made the-one-who-should-not-be-named my nigger? I did. I tweeted him, told him about the klan military man who would salute a uniform all day, but not a nigger, and I told him he was mine. Sure did and sent it to the POTUS address. I don’t bother with that real thang cuz he can block you. Did me. I have called him a nigger for a couple of days, and you know what? It does a body better than chicken soup and sitting fuming helplessly while my country is made to look an ass because of who sits at the helm.

It is a good time to sit and reflect. I need to sit and figure out why I would do such a thing. True, I was theory-testing. I do love to test a theory, almost as much as I love to knit. A Twitter friend said he reported being called a nigger by some “alt-right” types, and Twitter said none of its standards were violated. So, I said let us see if I can do what I did and suffer no repercussions as I would not be violating any standards. So far, I’m in the pipe, 5 X 5.

I have never written the WH. I have a few favorite presidents, but I don’t like playing favorites. This one, however, requires some face time with me. And I want it recorded.

Good fast to you.

 

Diversions · Fiction · Language · nanowrimo · Therapeutics · Uncategorized

That Nanowrimo Thang

It is here again, that nanowrimo thang. I signed up this year, and announced, even wrote a couple of chapters. Already too much pressure.

Trying to develop this habit for an activity I once loved as a child and engaged in effortlessly. I promised myself I would write if I got old enough to have done something, been somewhere. Here I am.

Allegedly, I just have to write something, e’r’day. Doesn’t have to be long, or even make sense, only written.

So, here goes, though late, but whatchugondo?

Think I need to change the background to commemorate the moment.

Craft · Therapeutics · trauma · Uncategorized

Grateful Shawl with Knit-as-You-Go I-Cord Edge (Therapeutic Knitting)

asymshawlGrateful Shawl

Click the link for a clearly written, free pattern for an asymmetric shawl with an I-cord edging that is knit onto the shawl as you go.

Nifty technique. There is a link to learn grafting included in the pattern that will take you to videos that demonstrate the kitchener stitch using a tapestry needle. Look for the video that demonstrates knitted grafting technique. Another nifty technique to add to your Notions Kit.