We are supposedly all done with the house-buying process and are just waiting for our CLOSING DATE, which looms impressive and frightening in our minds, even though CLOSING is nothing but the part where we sign our names six thousand times and hand over a cashier's check for ninety billion dollars and promise to remain faithfully in harness for the rest of our lives on this earth or thirty years, whichever comes first, and then we get the keys and act like the whole thing never happened and go around telling everyone how easy it was.
But it seems like we'll never be done, that the being-done part is a complete filthy lie, because every day there's something, some irritating little piece of arcane paperwork that someone just remembered and upon which the whole thing could hinge or collapse. Could you guys reprint page 7 of the contract, the amended version, and re-initial line 20 and send it to us? Hi! Just a reminder that you need to call Principessa Purdinkadinkle at the title company and read off the alphanumerical transcription of your DNA code before next week so she can get the genetic materials addendum to your contract to the lender, okay? And if it's not too much trouble, would you mind removing the left kidney of a virgin-conceived fetus--any one will do, don't worry about that part too much--and e-mail or fax it to us before close of business Tuesday? Oh, no reason!
This drip-drip-drip right now is a little irritating, especially since we're getting impatient with our self-imposed deadline. But it gives us something to do. And seriously, really for real, I mean it, the buying a house thing hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
There are a hundred forms to fill out and a hundred hurdles to clear and re-clear (and in some cases clear again for good measure, or possibly some faceless banker's sheer perversity), but the nice thing is they all come one at a time, or at least in tidy little clumps. You spend a few hours dispensing with each clump and then several days worrying about it until you get the thumbs up (or not) to move on to the next stage, and then you start working on a new clump.
Sure, in hindsight there are a few decisions we made--most under time pressure--that I might have made differently, or at least asked more and better questions about, and it's always fun to torture myself with the thought that if I were a little smarter, or a little more diligent or lucky or charming, I could have gotten a better deal, the great deal, the very best deal in town.
But overall I feel pretty good about what we're doing, and while it's been
boring, tedious, terrifying, confusing, annoying, exciting, and plain scary as
hell, it hasn't at any point been completely batshit crazy-making overwhelming.
Packing up Eric's massive record and toy collections yet again and loading them onto a truck, though? I think that's overwhelming. I'd rather just focus on CLOSING for now.