A Foreclosure Story, Part 5: Cash-for-Keys

Whether you believe in Robot Santa, the Chanukah Zombie, or Kwanzaa-bot, one thing’s for sure, he came through for me this year.

As far as I can tell, when “Bartholomew” (still not his real name) called the bank to as for my cash-for-keys payment, they must have been in the middle of their holiday party and quite drunk. Or maybe the bank’s heart grew three sizes that day.

In any case, I have to be out by January 14th, at which point I’ll get $3,000. This is a bit more than usual, probably because there’s a holiday week in there, and also because I’ve been polite about the whole thing. Bartholomew has to deal with lots of yelling and slammed doors. So remember, kids, politeness goes a long way.

I still have no idea what part of town I want to move to, or what kind of domicile I want to live in when I get there. I’ve eliminated a bunch of places that looked attractive on the surface, but had nothing but negative Yelp reviews.

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