Sign here…
|What a week.
Midweek I ordered the garage door. This time the fellow was totally normal. Ten foot width? No problem.
On Friday the call came and I went off to sign for the house at 2:30pm. As the wrong address appeared on all the forms, a second set of documents had to be printed while I was there— and a few were still incorrect. A set of photocopies was shuffled into a folder and presented to me. Nothing greater or more celebratory than that.
I think what makes it most anticlimactic is that I won’t get the keys until next Wed, Thurs or maybe Friday. Bank of America makes no promises on when they will actually get around to signing their signature lines and I don’t get keys until they do.
Today it might be a little mental exhaustion or the release from it, but I feel lousy. I’m going back to bed for a couple hours and will dream of putting smooth shades of “butterstone”, “sage” and “evening twilight” on the walls.
And the Superbowl later today? Have fun watching. I may still be napping or might rouse for an exciting bout of laundry and dishes. Today, I am officially, completely taking the day off.