Best News Today

“Shine on me sunshine, walk with me world, it’s a skippity do da day, I’m the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A.”

I’ve been singing Donna Fargo’s tune right along with Dolly in my head off and on ever since I read the words “clear to close” in an email. Then the title office called to schedule a closing date.

Fantastic! Yes! I’m buying a house!

Oh gosh… the last few days have been a roller coaster ride that left me on the brink of tears.  There have been misunderstandings between the funding sources, an expired contract awaiting the seller’s signature on an extension request, and a personality conflict between my realtor and the banker. When a change in my loan status required manual underwriting, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Maybe I should be singing What a Difference a Day Makes.

It is still not a done deal until the last paper is signed and the keys are dropped into my hand, but is is such a relief to have a closing date.

I’m so happy today that I am not going to let ANYONE rain nails on my parade… not even a neighbor telling me that my boyfriend is “doing” a girl on his floor can bring me down.

I told the neighbor not to worry about it… he’s not moving with me anyways.

 

NEXT MORNING (a little note for my sister readers):  That neighbor was trying to convince me to break up with M and threw in that tidbit for good measure. Bottom line, he is a grumpy old man who doesn’t want his friend to move out of the building.  Supposedly, they are in a big dispute… yeah right, I look out the window and see them doing the Paul Simon thing, sitting on park benches like book ends.  If it is true, oh well… he will eventually tell on himself.

 

Closing Time

Semisonic’s Closing Time continuously plays in my head… it’s almost closing time, with a slightly different meaning than the song as I am not hanging out in bars… too stone cold sober for that. I’m just waiting to close this house deal so I can to go out to the place I will be from (to play with lyrics).

Please… take me home. Here’s one corner of the yard.

I’m thinking about planting Mars’ ashes in that far corner and marking his spot with art. The mosaic spores would add a nice splash of color between the tree and decorative grass.

I had hopes to be out of this apartment before Wednesday, August 31st, but… looks like I might be here for another week or two. My loan is approved, but we can’t close until the grant issuer has everything she needs. I’ll find out on Tuesday if she needs ONE MORE piece of paper.

Oh gosh, so much paper… so many i’s to dot and t’s to cross. I might exhale when we set a closing date. Nah, buying a house is a bit like opera… it’s not a done deal till the last page is signed.

What should I sing when I have the keys in hand?

Drunk Ass Tourists

Did you have a fun Memorial Day Weekend?

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If you came downtown to party on Saturday night and got so drunk that you thought the bricks behind this “bush” was a good secluded spot to squat, then you should have turned around and looked up.

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Yes, I am the one who spooked your dumb ass by yelling, “Hey! You cannot pee in our yard.”

Got to love the way sound travels in the concrete canyons… there was no one else out there except that ditsy drunk woman and her party friends so I knew it had to sound like a loud, authoritative voice from above. I laughed myself silly after yelling out the window because there was no hesitation. They booked down towards Boardman Street.

Rule #1 for city life: be aware of your surroundings. I’m sure the old guys would have enjoyed the view but come on… your piss would stink for days.  Women who stumble down the street drunk are also easy marks for anything. If your friends had any sense, the designated driver (if you had one) would have fetched the car and picked your ass up at the bar. Or better yet, called a taxi.

This public service announcement is brought to you by crazy old women who live downtown… have fun, be safe… and don’t pee in our yard.