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Sep. 19th, 2012 10:28 am( Gaeilge )
I have no idea why the draw specialist a) called my home number instead of my cell, which is my contact for everything house/mortgage related, or b) wouldn't give the boy the information, since he's on the damn mortgage too. This is not the most auspicious of beginnings, bank. Though I suppose the other option is that it was the bank calling about my account and the boy misheard, because I think my home phone number is on my bank account as my contact number. Because no one ever does. At any rate. The boy was meeting with the contractor today to discuss getting the work permits, so that's going forward.
The boy asked if there was someplace downtown we could make duplicates of house keys, at which point it became just a little more real. Along with the irritating reality of having to negotiate draw and paying for renovations. Ugh. And because it took so damn long from the first time he looked at the house, now we actually likely won't be moved in till mid-November. Though I can understand, since we've had torrential downpour for three of the last four days, why some things like roof repair might be delayed. Fucking hell, though.
There's a certain element here of I thought this shit would stop once the house purchase was done! No, Jag, of course it won't, now you have to wrangle the bank to pay for the renovations. It's a little less, though? I can get some of the boxes out from the apartment and into the new house. Clean some of the rooms in the apartment. And that'll make the move slower, which might even make it easier. Just. Ugh, yet more shit to slog through. Woo. I keep reminding myself, it's not actually that bad. It's filling out some forms, turning them back in, and then making a phone call to the bank tomorrow if the draw offices haven't figured out that my cell phone is better than the other.
So tired. Just want to move boxes and curl up in my new house and sleeep. Which is probably most of it, on the downswing from yay it's achieved what you mean I have to do more work? Fuck you all want my nap. ... actually, not even more work, more paperwork. Fucking paperwork.
On the plus side, work permits. For work. On our house. OUR. HOUSE. Gnaw gnaw gnaw our house for me and the boy not for anyone else. Hah.
I have no idea why the draw specialist a) called my home number instead of my cell, which is my contact for everything house/mortgage related, or b) wouldn't give the boy the information, since he's on the damn mortgage too. This is not the most auspicious of beginnings, bank. Though I suppose the other option is that it was the bank calling about my account and the boy misheard, because I think my home phone number is on my bank account as my contact number. Because no one ever does. At any rate. The boy was meeting with the contractor today to discuss getting the work permits, so that's going forward.
The boy asked if there was someplace downtown we could make duplicates of house keys, at which point it became just a little more real. Along with the irritating reality of having to negotiate draw and paying for renovations. Ugh. And because it took so damn long from the first time he looked at the house, now we actually likely won't be moved in till mid-November. Though I can understand, since we've had torrential downpour for three of the last four days, why some things like roof repair might be delayed. Fucking hell, though.
There's a certain element here of I thought this shit would stop once the house purchase was done! No, Jag, of course it won't, now you have to wrangle the bank to pay for the renovations. It's a little less, though? I can get some of the boxes out from the apartment and into the new house. Clean some of the rooms in the apartment. And that'll make the move slower, which might even make it easier. Just. Ugh, yet more shit to slog through. Woo. I keep reminding myself, it's not actually that bad. It's filling out some forms, turning them back in, and then making a phone call to the bank tomorrow if the draw offices haven't figured out that my cell phone is better than the other.
So tired. Just want to move boxes and curl up in my new house and sleeep. Which is probably most of it, on the downswing from yay it's achieved what you mean I have to do more work? Fuck you all want my nap. ... actually, not even more work, more paperwork. Fucking paperwork.
On the plus side, work permits. For work. On our house. OUR. HOUSE. Gnaw gnaw gnaw our house for me and the boy not for anyone else. Hah.