Jan. 7th, 2016

sistawendy: black and white shot of me looking dramatic (drama)
My ex* asked me to file a quit claim on my house so she could sell it without having to involve me. It went like this:
  1. Get the property tax ID & legal description, which I needed for the actual divorce, and fill out the form.
  2. Get it notarized.
  3. Bop on down to the court house and attempt to file it. The clerk said I needed to take it to the real estate records office in the county administration building, helpfully connected by tunnel.
  4. Get in line at the records office, only to realize when it was my turn that I needed cash, and more than I had on hand.
  5. Go back to the court house, get a couple more official copies of the divorce decree, get cash.
  6. Go back to the records office, only to be told that I need to fill out a real estate excise tax affidavit (REETA) along with my quit claim, and that it needs both my ex's and my signatures.
A REETA is a non-trivial five-page form that's usually part of the paperwork for a real estate sale; I recognized it. It's usually part of what one pays real estate agents to handle. I recommended to Ex that we fuck that noise, save the filing fee, and when the time comes I'll just sign what I have to to get the house sold. She's cool with that, and any money I might get from the sale is a windfall.

Where that gets interesting is that I never changed my name on the title to the house, so who knows? I may need another certified copy of my name change order from over five years ago.
I've notified my employer, and through them my health insurance company, that my divorce was final on the 30th. The trouble is, my insurance paid a claim for Ex on the 5th. Please, please don't let them ask for their money back or, you know, do us for insurance fraud.
Ex has also told my son that as soon as she has a new house in the south end, which could be blindingly fast considering the market, she's shipping him off to live with me most of the time. He got weepy. He doesn't want to live with me because I yell at him - and make him pick up after himself and do things on time. Some of it's manipulation, yes, but some of it is me, well, losing my shit too loudly. The kid's punkitude gets to Ex & me both, but in different ways. Oh, and there's no way in hell I'm moving to a bigger place just because he couldn't get his act together. We're going to be all up in each other's business.



*Yeah, still enjoying typing that.

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sistawendy: a head shot of me smiling, taken in front of Canlis for a 2021 KUOW article (Default)
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