Changing timetables, and freaking out

Warning-- annoyed rant (with some resolution) ahead...


Around 4:30 yesterday, I was gathering my things at work... getting ready to go home and enjoy some of the beautiful weather. My phone rang-- our buyer's agent was calling regarding the closing next week.

Apparently the lawyer we'd hired to be there for the closing is going to be out of town next Friday, and apparently it's okay to move the closing up... so how about Monday?

insert Mel panicking here


continue to panic

Mind you, it's not that I would mind closing early... except that we've had arrangements made with my mother, with our workplaces, with our insuring agent, that everything would be done on Friday. Mom's wiring the money to me either tomorrow afternoon or Thursday for the closing. If it needed to go to Erich's account directly, then it becomes a bit of an issue to get the draft of the cashier's check by Monday, as his bank is not local. This concerns me, because all of the funding for the closing is currently in my mom's bank account, not ours. AND... my mom's in Florida, not at home.

Panic rises.

Then there's the issue of getting time off on Monday. While I know my boss wouldn't be too bad about it, I can't exactly ask her-- she's on vacation all week with her kids since Massachusetts schools are on one of their plethora of vacation weeks. If we were to have the closing on Monday, she'll be getting back to work after a week away and won't have me there to get through the panic attacks. It's not a good showing for me.

Erich getting off of work, when he's already struggled to fix his schedule, is another story. He doesn't have the leniency that I do.

And then there's the extreme annoyance at this lawyer. We arranged this last fucking month. Now all of a sudden he'll be out of town? And he doesn't bother to call us. Our agent calls us. What the fuck is up with that?

So I'm pissed. And worried. I call Erich, leave a rather upset message, and then head home, hoping that Erich gets my message since it's almost 5 p.m. and this is an issue that has to be dealt with right away. Since he's the only one on the mortgage, I'm a bit powerless in all of this. He's somewhere in transit along the MBTA to get home, and I don't have my cell phone. Dealing with the typical Massholes on the highway just serves to intensify my mood.

I get home, and Jason's there to get his mail, switch the phone bill back over to our name (since it had been in his to get his license changed to Mass.) and probably attempt to have purry time with Gus (who he should know by now won't just sit there and purr for him on command). Erich's on hold with the phone guys, so I ask him if he got my message. He said no, but he's talked to our agent, so he already knew what I was asking about. Then he gets pulled back onto the line.

So I'm plunking down in my computer chair, trying to get my breath and composure, venting about the whole situation. And I'm pissed. Really pissed. I feel like we've been given a bit of a bait-and-switch with this lawyer, and I'm scared that we could lose the house because right now every cent of the closing money is in my mother's account. How I'm feeling rushed and have been uneasy about the entire process (read= some remanants of buyers remorse). I'm venting. I'm stressed. I'm scared. Because I don't want to lose this house.

And rather than be supportive or calming, Jason (unsurprisingly) takes his santimonious self-righteous route, being so incredibly condescending that he's just fueling me more. How maybe I should have thought about this earlier, etcetera. And I practially spat back at him that there are some things that we couldn't possibly have realized coming into this. We're fucking first time buyers-- we're not experts at this, and no offense, but he was overstepping his bounds here, given the fact that he's never been in this situation.

Oh, but in Jason's mind, of COURSE he knows what it's like. Because he's talked to friends who have bought their first houses. Clearly that is enough (in his mind, anyway), to qualify him to know what it's like. Therefore he's a fucking expert on it. Riiight. I called him on being condescending, which he denied (he always does). And I'm even more pissed now than when I walked in the door, because now I've got a "who the FUCK does he think he is?" riding around in my head.

Mind you, there's a reason we've been asking our mothers-- both of whom are fucking real estate agents themselves, for advice on house matters. Aside from some recommendations for insurance agents in the area and things that are local-related, the hosue matters have gone through our parents, who have professional experience on this. AND, given that they're our parents (and helping to finance this), we know that we can trust their judgement on this.

Thankfully, Jason scooted out of there quickly. Which was good, because I was shortly going to be telling him to leave. My tolerance of self-important strutting is down to about nil right now-- both at work and at home. It was seriously bad timing. I over-reacted, but his behavior definitely was not helping.

Erich called our agent, and apparently Tuesday and Wednesday could work as well for the closing. So on that end, at least, it's up to Erich. He's the one with the trickier schedule to deal with. I can work around it a bit at least. It's going to make things a bit more frustrating with my scheduling here, but I'll deal.

A call to our mortgage broker this morning solved the money wiring problem-- the money can be wired to me, and I can write a gift letter to Erich, as I'm his fiancé. We'll have gift letters from my parents to me as backup documentation, just in case. My bank is local (and open on Sunday), so if we need to draft the cashier's check this weekend for a Monday closing, it can be done.

So now it's Erich's schedule... and then we'll see what's going to happen.


I need a drink. A really big one that will give me a hangover.