I have a feeling that Realtor Man and Bank Guy will throw back a few cold ones the day they get to be rid of me.
Having more time on my hand than Beloved to handle the communications aspect of homebuying, I have made a habit of emailing both of these men at least 25 times a day. Realtor Man gets most of my worry-infused emails; Bank Guy gets the virtual foot-tapping 'are we there yet?' emails. After six months of a stalled short-sale purchase attempt, Realtor Man suggested to Beloved that we look for a different home to buy. It was just the push that I didn't want to give him. Coming from a seven-foot man, it was probably more effective.
The House We Really Are Buying was worth waiting for in Dante's Fourth Ring of Homebuying Hell. The first time I saw the picture of my kitchen, I knew it. And then when I saw the size of the garage, I knew that Beloved would probably feel the same as when he first met me. I suspect he won't try to casually avoid the garage, causing the garage to change its phone number, and forcing him to try to find the garage on Facebook to try to win it back.
Anyhow, we are in the last leg of this ridiculous venture. Awaiting appraisal information, we've done all the other adult things, such as radon testing and Homeowner's Insurance buying (Convicted of Arson, you say? Well, not recently. Better than the question my parents were asked: 'Do You Plan On Making Methamphetamines? Ha!) We're now in the hurry-up-and-wait stage again. Only we're sure this one will be ours.
And if Realtor Man and Bank Guy are reading this, I'll make you cookies when this is all said and done. I have no plans to leave my beautiful kitchen.