Wreck-O-Drama is more like it. Monsieur La Banque spoke and said Non. The bank refused to finance our project as we requested because they thought it was too much of a risk. They sent out an independent evaluator from Dijon to look at the Wreck who promptly replied ‘zey are crazy zee Canadians, tell zem to kiss my derrière’.
Now, the realtor, the management company and my neighbour (who’s been in Semur for over 30 years) all said they had never seen this kind of evaluation done in France. Of course not, this is the Bobbi effect. I move to France and all kinds of magnifique comes out of the woodwork, the coldest December for France in 40 years, the least amount of sunshine in 20 odd years and now novel methods of real estate obstruction. Merde.
But before you think it’s all gloomy, another episode of woman whining and writing woefully, there is a very sparkly silver lining here. After the slap from Monsieur La Banque we went back to our plans for the reno and discovered they were off everywhere by about 2-3 feet (long story). Had we gone ahead we would’ve had a huge problem on our hands.
So here’s the deal. The deal is dead, for now. We spent the holidays, day and night, reworking the design. The challenge here is for me, giant North American, to live and work in 900 square feet with a husband without facilitating a homicide or a suicide. I think we finally have a plan that preserves life so now we have to start all over.
We have yet to meet with the other bank as the weather on Christmas Eve made country back road travel a death wish. After that we have to get all new quotes from the artisans which will take weeks and weeks. All this assuming that the Wreck will still be available and that the lady from Paris will be willing to deal with us again. Double merde.
The good thing about France is that you can’t throw a rock without hitting a wreck. This week we are hitting the banks, looking at more wrecks, continuing the quest for the original Wreck as well as trying to figure out where the hell we’ll live in May if we don’t have a house by then.
Ah yes, the simple life. The quiet laid back pace that I have been seeking. Freedom from complications of the rat race. As I’ve said before it’s a sickness. Real Estateitis, Renovationosis, Wreckemia more commonly known as same merde, different country.