2009

Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate this time of year?

Aside from the pollen covering every surface, which makes using my nose or my eyes damned near impossible, there’s also the developing heat that reminds me that summer is on the way. I don’t like summer. Never have. Summer depresses me. I’d be happy as a clam if the temperature never got far above 65F, and if the sun only came out on days when I specifically planned to be out taking pictures. That’s why I always liked the weather in SF when I lived there, but this week has been one of those weeks where you couldn’t even count on that.

It seemed we had an extra long and extra cold winter this year around these parts. In fact, I was using the space heaters off and on well into April. I liked it. Maybe we’ll have a nice, short, cooler than average summer, too. That would be nice. But I’m not holding my breath.

That’s what it’s been like trying to instill a sense of urgency in several of the participants in our little episode of “House Hunters”. There were stressful moments when we bought the house in Winston-Salem too, but they pale in comparison to our Pittsburgh adventure.

To start, we were pre-approved for a mortgage of three times the amount we ultimately applied for, and it still took weeks of emailing check stubs, statements, blood samples, and everything else you can name before we were finally approved. And of course, the mortgage broker blew pretty much every deadline he’d given us, leaving us hanging several times along the way as we tried to schedule around a closing we couldn’t guarantee was going to happen. It’s great that they’re giving mortgages extra scrutiny now, but that’s not an excuse for bad customer service.

And now, I can’t get anyone to cough up a finalized HUD-1 form, even though I have to pick up a certified check tomorrow morning for whatever amount will be printed at the bottom of this elusive form so that I can actually make it to Thursday’s closing. The settlement officer says she can’t really promise I’ll have it tomorrow morning. Frankly, I think it’s reasonable to expect something like this would be taken care of a little sooner than twenty-four fucking hours before closing. I’d like to be able to look over the damned thing at least for a few minutes before I’m actually seated at the table with pen in hand.

You’d think that people in the real estate industry would be anxious and practically bending over backward to make the process as painless as possible right now. You’d be wrong.