So, after a three-day weekend of The Plague, another week of it sapping my will to live, and a spring break full of naps and frustration, things seem to be on the upswing.
Notice I say "seem." While I want very much to maintain a positive attitude and attract that energy from the universe, a part of me whispers, "Your other mortgage tanked 24 hours before closing, remember?"
I'm onto mortgage #2, with only one episode of Tactical Yelling, wherein it was discovered that the paperwork the brokers kept insisting all I needed to do was sign and return to them already (I could imagine them adding, "for pete's sake, lady") and things could move ahead...had, in fact, not been sent to me. Within two hours of The Yelling, I had the good-faith estimate that I should have had a week and a half ago. Two hours after that, I had the mortgage application. Miraculous. I, of course, am much more efficient than these folks and had everything checked, signed, copied, returned, spindled, and mutilated (OK, not those last two) within 24 hours. Now, I realize that this is Friday, and hoping that I will get something like a closing date by close of business Monday is most likely folly. But since the lawyers are ready to go from mortgage #1 (the survey is done, the title search is done, whatever else it is that lawyers do is mostly done-I'm sure there's something specific to this set of paperwork to be done), I should be able to close much more quickly than before. "Quickly" being a relative term, really. If nothing else, I have learned that MY definition of "quickly" is not closely related to the mortgage industry's definition.
And in what I can only view as an interestingly quirky turn of fate, as I raced between schools and the credit union and the realtor's office and Wegmans this morning, my car battery died. I totally understood how it felt.
(Riding in the big yellow tow truck back to school was a highlight of the day!)