Got a call from the mortgage company yesterday while I was at lunch. She called my cell phone. I just happened to look down after washing my dishes to see the green circle which means an incoming call. (Coincidence being Heaven's way of remaining anonymous.) Underwriting only needed that one copy, my July bank statement front and back including any blank pages, and we could close on Friday. Or on Monday. I gently reminded her that that was Labor Day.
After lunch I faxed the last of the paperwork. And now we wait. I need to take a good hard squint at my workflow for the rest of the week and make sure there are no major projects due on Thursday or Friday. Or Tuesday.
Yesterday was blessedly productive, and the result of fervent prayer. I mailed out masses of envelopes that I had printed off late Friday afternoon which were dated for yesterday, so I couldn't upload them at the time. Decimated my pending folders for both attorneys and cheerfully forwarded other stuff to the secretary who had been on vacation last week. Whittled down my email inbox.
Lorelai wouldn't start yesterday. She was a little reluctant when I tanked her on Saturday night. So glad I decided to keep the truck. I transferred everything into the Tardis and drove to work.
I called Squishy on the drive home, but he was working until 9:00. And I am booked through Thursday night. Lorelai will just have to sit at the curb until Friday night or sometime Saturday.
I will use significantly more gas this week than I had planned; thankfully, that won't mean ramen noodles until payday as it once would. So blessed!
If I have a mortgage in my own name, that means I'm officially a grownup. Right?