The Bank Got Drunk and Let Me Buy A House

To : The Very Understanding Man Who Patiently Explained Mortgages To Me And Wasn’t Offended When I Abruptly Hung Up On Him. Twice

Subject : CRAP!

Mike,

Hi, I’m so sorry about all the documents. It’s not that I forgot, it’s actually that I’m a horrible person AND I forgot. But they’re here now. Or at least they will be as soon as my husband gets home and makes the scanner work.

This would be why my mortgage was set up by my Aunt Camelia; she’s the only one tenacious enough to continually hunt me down and force me to complete all the necessary bank documents. Mike, can I call you Mikey? Mikey, if it makes you feel any better, I was writing and editing a book the month I applied for a mortgage three years ago, so if you think that I’m hard to get a hold of now, you can imagine what it would have been like then. Also I was constantly drunk.

This email is making me sound very responsible. Which I am. You should totally renew my mortgage. At a low rate too, just as soon as I figure out how to send those documents you requested two months ago. Did I mention that our scanner is confusing and has a vendetta against me?

In addition to no longer being drunk all of the time or spending my life writing a book that I’m not being paid for, you should know that I no longer have a filing system involving naked backs. That tidbit should probably go in the folder that the bank keeps on me, the comment should read “Has advanced organizational system- no nudity”. That comment alone is a testament to how grown up I’ve become.

And, I should add that this is the first off the wall email you’ve received from me. If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is. Three years ago after my Aunt Camelia had left five messages on my phone requesting ridiculous items like my Notice of Assessment and other nonsense, saying things like “tomorrow” then, “Friday at the latest” and finally “Please, please Unwashed get it to me in two weeks and stop publishing posts about kicking financial institutions”, I would finally return her calls with a bizarre email about how I was channeling “Little House on the Prairie” and building a cabin in the woods so as to avoid all this mind numbing paperwork.

My aunt loves me very much.

Mikey, I realize that none of this email is those documents that you need but you have my assurance that I will send them to you post haste and won’t get side tracked by researching locally made bamboo toothbrushes or Playboy bunnies.

You’ll have it tonight, I swear. Tuesday at the latest. Maybe April, but only if I forget completely, which I won’t because I wrote myself a detailed note on the fridge “Mike, no naked backs” so as long as my husband doesn’t erase my words thinking that I’m protesting Channing Tatum movies,

channing-tatum-diet-plan

Who would protest chiseled abs? (Photo Credit : Pintrest.com)

then my mortgage renewal papers will definitely be in your inbox at some point this year.

 

Maturely yours,

Unwashed

 

 

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Procrastination and Beer Commercial Pleasantries

I’m purchasing a house this year. This means only one thing; I have stacks of paperwork approximately as high as myself to fill out. Luckily most of my family deals in business and thus are overseeing the various processes for me which is a good thing for a number of reasons. First off, I just finished National Novel Writing Month, and yes I did write my fifty thousandth word at eleven forty five last Saturday night. This came at the cost of being a grown up and ironically posting on my blog with any sort of regularity. Happily my family has understood. When my Aunty Camelia, who is acting as my mortgage broker, would call me asking for important documents there was no judgment when I replied “Ummm, I’m kind of busy right now, I’ve got a whole lot of lemon berry frozen yoghurt to eat and Real Housewives to watch.”

My Dad has been handling the transfer of monies and whatnot. This too involves mass amounts of mail being sent to my house.  There were a lot of conversations like this during the past month

Dad “Did you receive the papers that my assistant William sent you?”

The Great Unwashed “Yes, they’re sitting right in front of me.”

Dad “Are you going to sign them?”

The Great Unwashed “Absolutely not”

My Dad has always dealt with all my financial affairs and up until recently everything in my life was good because of his secretary Cadence. Dad’s secretary and I had a great understanding. She would send me nice little notes written in her bubble letter print reminding me to sign things and when I forgot about them she would call me and ask in her sweet way for me to remember. It worked great.

And then she got pregnant and has been off spending time with her baby. I’m terribly happy for her and William, the man who has taken her place is extremely kind however he is all about protocol and not bubble letters or frequent voice mails telling me to file papers.

Finally this past weekend I ventured home and my Dad and I went through and signed all of the documents. On the top of the pile was one of William’s many introductory letters explaining what the pages he had sent me were. It was terribly professional with the company letter head and everything which was why I couldn’t sign the papers alone. Clearly if a letter was required this was serious business and it’s doubtful whether I should be trusted with something such as that. Fortunately I figured out a solution; along with a blank cheque that I still need to send to my father’s office, I’m going to include a note to his assistant.

Dear William,

Thanks so much for sending me everything. In the future it would be more helpful if you sent a note that looked like this, written on a coffee stained post it rather than intimidating business like letters.

 

Waaaaaaaazzzzup?

Ur Dad wants u to sine this.

Lates. William

 

My father’s assistant may argue that corresponding in this way isn’t professional however I am not professional, so it works.