There’s always something to howl about.

My own first-hand foreclosure story

On April 27th, ironically the day before BloodhoundBlog Unchained commenced, IndyMac Bank posted a Notice of Trustee’s Sale against our home. I didn’t know about this until this week, although I had known it was a possibility.

This is really nobody’s business. But as a matter of steadfast policy, I have never let anyone make a truthful statement about me that I have not first made myself. I know I tend to excite the most evil sentiments in people with evil minds, so they may want to take this opportunity to further their self-destruction. This matters to me not at all. I live my life well to the right of the zero on the number line, and the only people I deal with or care about do the same. People who pursue disvalues are of no value to themselves, nor to anyone.

But so as not to introduce this topic and then leave it unexplained, here’s what happened: For the past three years, our outflow has exceeded our inflow. This is not an unusual story in the real estate business, and we have been lucky to have enough high-paying work to at least keep us within reach of profitability. During this same time, as you have seen here, we have completely reengineered everything we think about marketing, with the ultimate test of those ideas beginning only now.

But our debt load became severe enough last year that we had to make some hard choices. I elected to take a chance on our mortgage payments, since there was a plausible threat that we might lose the house anyway. Our choice was to keep the doors open at the risk of those doors themselves. I could see an upswing in our business activity, to the extent that I expected to catch up on the mortgage by the second quarter of 2009, and to catch up on everything by the fourth quarter.

I still expect this to be the case. My one mistake was that I didn’t think IndyMac would pull the trigger this soon. I played chicken and I lost, so now, in addition to buying back our late payments, we will also have to pay the trustee’s legal fees.

I am chagrined in Cathleen’s behalf. I have always been a slow pay. I’ve never defaulted on a debt, but I’ve never risked the farm just to pay the fertilizer bill on time. Cathleen, by contrast, used to be a fanatical bill-payer, and she is robbed of that small joy for now. Still worse, for living with me she is robbed of her privacy. I know that we will prosper well enough, in due course, to feed all her delights — reliable solvency, stray animals, the Phoenix facsimiles of fine arts, etc. For now I can but beg her forbearance and ask her, along with our creditors, to wait just a little bit longer.

I can’t imagine what it must seem like to be on the receiving end of a missive like this, but that has nothing to do with anything. I don’t need for you to have read this, and, in your place, I probably would not have. Where’s the upside? But it’s something that I could not have left unsaid, not given everything else I’ve said. So, if you actually have read this far, I’m grateful for your indulgence. But now you should go do something more worthwhile, more productive and more conducive to the undiluted self-adoration that is the purpose of human life. That’s what I’ll be doing, in any case.