"Great. Let's open the champagne!" my realtor said over the phone.
It was Monday morning, and the lender had just emailed us to confirm the mortgage rate and terms. Paperwork to sign was to follow later in the day.
Three weeks of inspections had passed, and it was clear to us that by the time we were done with this remodel, everything but the four walls holding it together would have to be new. Nonetheless, I was feeling unexpectedly ecstatic.
The mortgage rate was doable, and significantly less than what I was paying in rent.
Without having a contractor lined up, I knew that somehow we were going to manage.
For the first time in weeks, I went to bed happy.
The next morning, I woke up to an email from my lender, Maria.
"WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT THE ZONING," she literally screamed in her message.
What?
She went on to complain that she "just" realized that the property was zoned "general commercial" with the residential portion grandfathered in.
"My company doesn't issue commercial loans," she wrote.
Rewind to three weeks earlier.
to be continued