I hear you - our closing is today at 4:00. Everyone here in corporate cubeville has been commenting all morning about how calm I am, but right now my goal for the day is to get through the closing without bursting into tears in front of the sellers and all the assorted expensive lawyers. I'm a complete wreck! I looked at the final closing statement yesterday - Bob summed it up perfectly: "That's a car. A *nice* car."
Adulthood is over-rated. I wanna be five again. Life was sweet when I was five.
The current plan is closing at 4:00, then we'll drive up to the house and let *ourselves* in with *our* key, and then I'll spend a half an hour or so sobbing in hysterical panic in the middle of my new living room. Once I've got that out of the way, we'll measure everything so that tomorrow night we can go buy paint. Lots and lots of paint.
You need to send me the write up on your sword, AND I need you to send me that movie scene text you showed me at Pennsic. I can see how it needs to be lettered, and it's going to haunt me until I get it out on paper. Besides, once I get my drawing board set up I'll need a project to break the new space in, and I'd love it to be one for a friend.
Here's my take on your last home-owning experience, given that Bob had a similar experience. There's a price for anything worthwhile - walking away from that house and everything that it represented financially was the price of your release from that situation. Your price was paid in things, and you can always get more things. You coudn't have gotten back you health, your mind, or your soul, so you didn't come out too badly in the long run.
And my take on the divorce? From another divorced/remarried friend of mine: "They say 50% of marriages end in divorce. I've already had my 50%, so we should be good."
In about an hour, I need to go home, get things together, and try not to make myself sick from nerves while I wait for Bob so that we can go over to the lawyer's office and sign my life away. Nothing says "forever" like a 30 year mortgage.
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Sympathetic Real Estate Pain
Date: 2006-08-30 05:09 pm (UTC)Adulthood is over-rated. I wanna be five again. Life was sweet when I was five.
The current plan is closing at 4:00, then we'll drive up to the house and let *ourselves* in with *our* key, and then I'll spend a half an hour or so sobbing in hysterical panic in the middle of my new living room. Once I've got that out of the way, we'll measure everything so that tomorrow night we can go buy paint. Lots and lots of paint.
You need to send me the write up on your sword, AND I need you to send me that movie scene text you showed me at Pennsic. I can see how it needs to be lettered, and it's going to haunt me until I get it out on paper. Besides, once I get my drawing board set up I'll need a project to break the new space in, and I'd love it to be one for a friend.
Here's my take on your last home-owning experience, given that Bob had a similar experience. There's a price for anything worthwhile - walking away from that house and everything that it represented financially was the price of your release from that situation. Your price was paid in things, and you can always get more things. You coudn't have gotten back you health, your mind, or your soul, so you didn't come out too badly in the long run.
And my take on the divorce? From another divorced/remarried friend of mine: "They say 50% of marriages end in divorce. I've already had my 50%, so we should be good."
In about an hour, I need to go home, get things together, and try not to make myself sick from nerves while I wait for Bob so that we can go over to the lawyer's office and sign my life away. Nothing says "forever" like a 30 year mortgage.