I’m buying a house. For those of you who have never undergone the endless paperwork associated with this endeavor, I’ll describe it. First you find lots of papers. Remember all those documents the government sent you last year that you stuffed between the cushions of the couch? You’ll need those; so start pulling the remains of them out from the vacuum bag and sponging the pudding off the pages because those documents will need to be scanned and faxed. In triplicate.
Then once you’re finished with that, you have to find more important documents that you never thought you’d need. You may discover them filed with your Christmas cards from three years ago. Please note your mortgage broker will not accept a photo of a naked back in lieu of your most recent tax return. Offers of accompanying naked men in exchange for less paperwork will also be declined.
Then you’ll find a house. Goodness help you at this part because if you thought there was a lot of scanning and paper signing before, roll up your sleeves- you’re about to go down the paperwork rabbit hole. Multiple people will now want pages. Before it was just your mortgage broker, but now your lawyer, your insurance agent and your realtor will want some of that flattened tree action.
So you sign, you sign until your initials lose their forms and become some sort of chicken scrawl. Sometimes you sign forms online and then your signature really looks wonky. And you must always sign new forms if anything changes. If someone has mistakenly forgotten a letter in their middle name, a new form is needed, if you want insurance on the shed as well as the house, three new forms are required. You’re done for if the pricing of your house changes, then you have to start the process all over again.
That’s where I am right now, surrounded by all sorts of professionals who would really like to help me and a stack of papers telling me where all the redwoods have gone.
My Auntie Camelia* is acting as my mortgage broker. This is both a blessing and a curse, by that I mean I’m having a great time of it and the air in my Aunt’s house is slowly turning blue from the profanity.
I’ll share an exchange that occurred early on today
The Great Unwashed calls her aunt after discovering that six new files of eighteen pages a piece have now turned up in her email inbox to be printed, signed and read, ideally not in that order.
The Great Unwashed– “Auntie Camelia, I’m rereading “Little House on the Prairie” and seeing those new documents, I’m about two steps away from taking off and building my own log cabin in the woods.”
Auntie Camelia laughs good naturedly even though she’s been dealing with a surly and uncooperative Unwashed niece for almost six months now.
The Great Unwashed – “Do they need to be signed by tomorrow?”
Auntie Camelia – “No they can be done this weekend”
The Great Unwashed – “Also I don’t want a line of credit if it means more paperwork; I’ll strip on street corners to bring in money rather than signing more pages.”
Auntie Camelia – “There are only two more pages to be completed for the line of credit and as soon as you sign the rest, you are DONE.”
The Great Unwashed in a slightly less bitey-scratchy tone- “Just two pages? And then a couple more then I’m done?”
Auntie Camelia – “Yes”
The Great Unwashed – “Ok, I’ll hold off on hauling logs through the woods then, that paperwork requires less heavy lifting than I thought.”
Thus my dear readers, I have yet to take off into the brush to live with Ma, Pa and Laura although I have not yet ruled that option out. We’ll see what paperwork tomorrow brings before I do that.
*This post is dedicated to my Aunt who has worked with me when I was grumpy, confused and utterly tired of documents. She even continued to help me after I threatened to paint rainbows and butterflies on my mortgage application out of frustration. She’s an exceedingly patient woman in both her ability to track endless streams of paperwork and in dealing with people like myself.
Thank you Auntie Camelia.
**Names have been changed to protect the identities of people who currently possess all of my personal information. In my experience it’s best not to tick these types off by splashing their name across the interweb.
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