13 days remain until my house goes up for sale in a public auction by my lender.  No one is as surprised as me to learn that my foreclosure date was set for March 3^rd, 2010.  This tidbit of information was brought to my attention only yesterday via an advertisement in my mailbox by one of those seemingly unscrupulous loan modification/debt relief firms.  Thank goodness for junk mail is all I can say.  If “Missing Important Details” were an official Winter Olympic event I would easily take home the Gold Medal so it befuddles me how, when glancing past the panoply of cheesy graphics and photos littering this flyer, I somehow managed to notice a portion of small print saying, “Your Sale Date Is: 3/3/2010.” 

“My what is what?!” I shouted out loud as my eyeballs made a mad dash to escape their eye sockets.  This prompted me to check my lender's web portal that handles foreclosures via public auctions.  There it was in all of its liquid crystal glory: my sale date of 3/3/2010.  Darned if those junk mail-advertising-loan mod goons weren't right about someting for once.  This in no way exonerates or celebrates these loan modification firms who target the wallets of homeowners at their wits' end as they stand at the crossroads of exasperation and desperation facing foreclosure.  I should know, I was driven to that intersection countless times over the past year.  If only this particular loan modification/debt relief firm’s flyer reached me a day earlier when I was flush with cash I might have fallen for their offer.  I already spent all my loot the night before buying crap off of QVC while simultaneously purchasing as many “As Seen on TV” products I could find on sale across the internet.  Man, what a night.  My right buttock is still sore from repeated retrievals of my wallet from my back pocket and I've still got a pretty good buzz on from the rush of consumerism.  I should have just left my Visa debit card out on the TV tray for the duration but after making the initial QVC purchase of an automatic left pinky toenail clipper I was convinced I just bought the prerequisite gadgetry of the decade and would want for nothing more.  That is until the Kush Natural Breast Support showed up next on QVC.  I don’t have moobies but how could I resist this soft, pink, biscuit-shaped delight?  I swear I caught a glimpse of my name written all over its spongy surface.  I think my name might be ‘Kush’ but I'm not entirely certain.  So much of my life these days is all over the map anything is possible.  Regardless, it's good to help support the predicted increase in consumer spending for 2010.  I consider it my duty as a citizen to get my butt on the couch and do something about it… one senseless transaction at a time.

Perhaps that time and energy would have been better spent calling my lender.  Wait, are you nuts?!  If I want some news to discombobulate me I can turn on the telly and get it in crystal clear Hi Def on CNN.  Bank of America is the opposite of crystal clear Hi Def.  They fall somewhere between crumbling stone tablets and VHS when it comes to intelligibly disseminating pertinent information.  Geez, it almost makes me want to turn on CNN even though most of their news coverage makes little if any sense.  These days the only thing that keeps my brain from bouncing off the walls of my skull besides the grey matter is one of my favorite shows, As It Happens.  It’s a radio news program – go figure.  The hosts, Barbara Budd and Carol Off are rather brilliant hosts to a rather brilliant approach to news reporting.  One has a last name that makes the wannabe/wish-I-was-a-stoner in me giggle and the other, a name that is reminiscent of the geographic location of where my head is in relation to my body on a daily basis.  But that’s not the only reason the show is brilliant.  For As It Happens Barbara and Carol actually pick up the phone and talk to the people who are involved in the news stories… while it’s happening (hence the title of the show).  The program is broadcast on the CBC – again, go figure.  I wish my lender, Bank of America, would try the As It Happens approach with me and my foreclosure.  I’m not asking them to go to any great lengths like picking up the phone to call me.  I’m simply asking for a notice letter.  Any type of letter will do.  It could be a form letter or written with crayons or constructed out of individual cut-outs of letters from a newspaper a la a ransom note.  Better yet they could write it in blood and include an ear from an unclaimed cadaver at the local morgue.  Gross me out if you have to.  At this point I don’t care much about the medium, I just want the information.  Now is your cue to ask me, “Wait, are you nuts?!”  I might be because if the weather forecast for our friends to the North were sunny and 70s year round I’d be there in a Toronto second.  But alas, it is not and so here I remain committed to a city I love and holding out for changes in a system I can’t stand or understand.

A friend sent me a link the other day about a few foreclosure horror stories that sort of blew my mind and yet sort of didn’t. (Nicole, if you happen to read this, I SOOOOO OWE YOU AN EMAIL OR TWO OR THREE OR FIVE HUNDRED MILLION – SORRY!  I swear we'll catch up amidst this craziness).  That link led me to several news reports of homeowners in different parts of the country who filed lawsuits against Bank of America for wrongfully foreclosing on their homes (which included changing the locks, evicting tenants, cutting power, etc.).  Here’s Kicker #1:  In all of the cases B of A had the wrong address.  They foreclosed on these homes by mistake.  More astounding is that these homeowners had no relationships whatsoever with Bank of America as a lender on their properties (two of them owned their houses outright and the other never had a mortgage with BOA).  Here’s Kicker #2:  Rather than fess up to their glaringly obvious blunders and compensate the wronged homeowners for damages (physical damage – not punitive) Bank of America chose to play hard ball and hard to catch at the same time as they forced the homeowners to file lawsuits for due recompense.  There are four separate news articles covering the mistaken foreclosures HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE if you care for more details.  These foreclosure farces almost make me laugh until I realize I’m dealing with the same lender for my upcoming foreclosure.  I’ll consider myself forewarned:  Bank of America doesn’t mess around even when they’re messing up.

Looking on the bright side of my situation, now that foreclosure appears imminent I can finally spend much needed time to properly roger the other facets of my life.  Dealing with the bank during this foreclosure chaos has resulted in several missed opportunities to derail my career.  Or is it the other way around?  Also, I’ve been meaning to completely demolish my romantic life, friendships and family relationships (i.e. note above to Nicole).  Or is it the other way around?  Finally, there are several fun activities, joyous occasions and relaxing moments just waiting to be spoiled.  Or is it the other way around?  Crap, I just don’t know anymore.  Perhaps it’s time to get myself a good old fashioned addiction to huffing gas so I can wipe my life’s state of affairs totally clean… right along with what’s left of my mind and memories.  Life will be so much simpler when all that matters is where I’ll get my next can of Krylon flat black spray paint and a brown, paper lunch sack.  I wasn’t much of a paste-eater in grade school and not much of a rubber cement-sniffer in high school but now I think I finally see the benefits of improperly introducing noxious industrial products into my body.  

If there were ever a time to stop joking around and call my lender to figure out what the hell is going on, now is probably it.  I just can’t bring myself to do it though.  I thought about calling them all afternoon yesterday and I’ll think about it all afternoon today.  It’s doubtful I’ll pick up the phone and dial Bank of America’s dreaded Home Retention Department.  The vandal in me wants to start scrawling, “For a bad time call 800-669-0102” on bathroom stalls across the country but I’ve got enough trouble on my hands at the moment.  I need to find a way to get a 30-day postponement on this upcoming foreclosure.  By my calculations the eviction will occur at precisely the worst time: right when QVC is about to have their Big Spring Sale Television Special.  I need my living room with its TV and unobstructed view of my neighbor’s house so I can shop my brains out while I watch the sheriff mistakenly change the locks and post a foreclosure notice on the wrong house.