“Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art.”
– Kurt Cobain
I finally moved into my new house. That's a pain in the ass I don't even want to think about, let alone blog about.
December 7 is the last day the buyers can back out
of the deal to buy my house. They had the plumbing inspected by camera and
apparently weren’t thrilled with their dirty movie. Meanwhile, assuming I sell
the place I totally regret selling, I had the nicest conversation with the
escrow lady who will be processing the transaction if/when she regains
consciousness.
Her name is difficult to hear and even more
difficult to pronounce, so I just refer to her in my head as Pahtooey. I
suppose she could be a sleeper Syrian refugee so maybe I should cut her some
slack. On second thought, she’s just dumb enough to convince me she’s a real
‘Merikan. I learned some time ago that the Iraqi bankers in my old home town
were much more into actually reading and understanding documents than American
bankers. They actually understood what customer service means.
Patooey:
Thanks for the e-mail saying you’re going to have the escrow docs
notarized and overnighted back to me. You mentioned that your spouse is
deceased. There will be an addendum you’ll also need to notarize saying he is
deceased. Also, I’ll need a copy of the family trust since you’re signing as
trustee.
Me: M’kay.
Glad you caught me before I left for the UPS store notary and shipping.
WISIMH: Too
bad you didn’t catch me before I spent the morning filling out the forms and
talking to my tax lady about one of them. Also, I’m sorry you didn’t happen to
notice that certified copy of the death certificate I gave my broker when I
gave him a copy of the family trust.
Patooey: We’ll also need a certified copy of the
death certificate and a copy of the trust. When did your spouse die?
Me: December
5, 2014.
Patooey:
Wow! That’s…. sorry.
WISIMH: Did you just almost wish me happy
anniversary of TOG’s death?
Patooey: I’m going to need to get you a whole new
escrow packet because we can’t leave all those signature lines with his name
blank or that might hold up getting the County to record the Deed of Trust.
What I meant to say in my head, but didn’t: Ya
think?
What I did manage to say only in my head: Because it’s going to cost me enough to get
that shit notarized on earth and I’d hate to think what UPS charges to notarize
stuff in hell. And you cheap bastards should be paying to send a notary to my
house and ship the stuff to you anyway because I see you’re charging enough for
your tragically lame services.
