I spent two and a half hours going over loan papers with the mortgage chick today. I signed things, I listened as she explained things. I turned over other things. She made copies of this and that and some other stuff. I signed some more stuff.
She has every single thing she needs except one sheet of paper, which she can have on Monday.
And I am spent. I have reached the end of my abilities to think about anything with any kind of sense.
But I feel a kind of calm, because it it out of my hands. I have done all I can do and now?
Now it is up to the house itself and whether it passes inspection and if it appraises for the price they want for it and if it doesn’t have termites. If all that is as it should be, then we will move forward.
And I will own a home.
Which will be some of the most fucked-up crazy delightful shit I’ve ever heard.
I will go back to pondering what color to paint my room and how to get a little wall hanging that says
One’s own house is best, though small it may be;
each man is master at home;
though he have but two goats and a bark-thatched hut
’tis better than craving a boon.
Where, I ask you, are the heathen gift shops on the Net that will carry that kind of stuff for a girl?
Ha, maybe I can get something made at Cafepress…
Anyway, NM sent me a link to this book and I cannot wait to read it. The book, not the link.
But I guess you knew that.