A propensity to file claims

Oh, and we bought a house.

After buying a house a weeks-long closing process begins. And one of the steps in that process is to procure homeowner’s insurance for the new house. I went through this when we bought 939 Eldorado in Louisville in 2017. Back then it took 10 minutes and a few button clicks on Your Favorite Insurer’s website and bam, a new policy is fabricated.

But this time we got rejected. We got rejected over and over and over. We were 33% of the way through our closing process, and it seemed the deal would die because we were uninsurable. I bypassed the recalcitrant computer algorithm with one insurer and spoke with an actual human. She said “Ah, you have a propensity to file claims” citing three claims over a five year window we filed with our now-burned-down-house’s policy:

1. 6/18: Hail damage leading to a new roof.

2. 12/19: Water leak.

3. 12/21: Marshall Fire

She told us what the computer algorithm wouldn’t; three claims within a five year window = uninsurable. Call back once that 6/18 claim falls off the five-year window a year from now.

Wow.

I called our realtor. “I’ve heard rumors of this, but there’s no way this is going to be the deal breaker. Let me make an intro to a broker.” The person he introduced us to was local and fantastic. The insurance company never paid us anything for claim number 2 since the fix was below our deductible. Striking it from the record after a conversation with the underwriters, she got us a bad-arse policy.

The closing process was unblocked. Did we want it to be unblocked? Wouldn’t this have been an easy out?

We bought a house.

That’s our new house. And yes, it’s really close to the one on the right.

We struggled for months with the build vs. buy decision. If we build, we stay with the community and have continuity for our kids. If we buy in Denver, we get to re-establish Home now, and our kids get to know their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins casually. They’re all down there.

The build process was well underway, and we had one final weekend cycle to buy before we’d commit major funds to building, thereby making Build our de facto choice. And on that last weekend we found a place we loved in Wash Park, about 30 miles south of Louisville. The sellers received 9 offers, and they chose ours.

The new house is ~40 minutes and a new school district away.

I wanted to throw up. Are we really doing this?

It was a Sunday, and I was fly fishing with my brother and his good friend when I received the text.

“We got the house.”

“How’re you doing?” I asked Emily.

“I’m emotional,” she replied. “Can you come home?”

I felt the same way — a deep, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This Buy decision was hitting us like a tonne of bricks.

When I got to our rental I found her in a state I’d never seen her in. She was sobbing almost uncontrollably. “What did our kids to to deserve this? It’s not their fault they lost their house and their neighborhood. Now they’re losing their school and their friends. Why?”

“Let’s not do this. I’ll call Paul [our realtor] and we’ll back out,” I said.

“Just wait.”

“Ok.”

We flipped.

Emily went through the grief to resignation. I remained in Grief struggling with the same things she’d been externalizing on Sunday. On Monday I took Oliver to T-ball practice. I watched him play with his teammates and derive confidence from complying with his coach’s instructions. “Why are we taking him from this?” I was seconds away from calling Paul to back out of the offer.

But I didn’t make the call.

Intellectually, I knew the buying process had resurrected suppressed fire grief. My response to it was somewhat irrational; surely we could re-create this T-ball experience in Denver. I mean, kids in Denver play sports, right?

On Tuesday I called Brandon, a good friend of mine and the dad of Carter’s best friend. Brandon’s family and ours have been in it together through the pandemic and the fire. We were looking forward to getting our kids back into that neighborhood to get back to what we’d lost.

Emily walked in the office after I made the call.

“I told Brandon.”

“How’d it go?” she asked.

I couldn’t respond. I burst into tears; uncontrollable tears. Then I went to get a haircut.

We’re not sure we made the right decision.

I’ve felt like I wanted to throw up every day for the last two weeks. Are we allowed to grieve still? How will Carter (our soon-to-be fourth-grader) adapt to a new school? Will he be ok?

Emily has been heads down using our insurance money to buy furniture for the new house. She’s done an amazing job designing and orchestrating that. And I’m encouraged seeing her get more excited about the move.

We have really good friends in Denver, too. Our relationships with them have languished over the years given the 30 miles that stood between us. We get them back. And I love that.

At least, I hope I’ll let myself love that. I hope I can get past the grief and the guilt of abandoning our Louisville community. I hope they’ll forgive us. I hope we made the right decision.