It's been a long time

since I've said, on the phone, "that is fucking unacceptable."

And to a civilian, no less.

Even I am aware that one of the things you need to close on a house is a survey. A current survey, really, since I don't know anyone who's ever gotten a house without getting a new one.

It seemed, however, to come as a surprise to our title agency (that would be Land America Title Co., for all my Google monkeys). Which is how I found out today that our closing was in trouble because the survey - which the title people had ordered Thursday - was "not in."

Ordered Thursday? Like four days ago? When we set this closing date like two weeks ago?

It was not a happy discussion that I had with ol' Title Lady when I got out of work today and headed to the walkthrough.

"We can push it back a day," she sniveled.

"No. That's not an option. We are going to close Wednesday, and I don't give a shit what you have to do to make that happen."

You gotta understand, people, I'm not a rude person. I've worked with and for folks with a lot of different styles and, Parris Island aside, confrontational, browbeating interactions really have a limited role in getting things done.

However...Mr. Abby is a very nice man. Cheerful, happy and always looking for ways that he can help you help him. Heck, hint that you can't do your job and he'll probably find a way to do it for you.

Occasionally, I am therefore required to be the member of our household you don't want to talk to. Perhaps after a couple of conversations with Abby the Raging Bitch, you'll be a little more amenable to dealing with Mr. Abby the Very Reasonable.

It's worked before.

But now, since our immediate situation is being theatened by blinding incompetance, we've had to be proactive.

The big problem here is there's FedExing involved. Let's reverse-plan. In order for the documents to be here for a 1030 closing on Wednesday, Mr. Abby needs to send them out of Tampa by around 1800 Tuesday night. Which means he should probably get them by 1400 on Tuesday. Which means they need to be sent...well, see? That already doesn't work.

I didn't get a warm fuzzy from Title Twit about the whole 21st century thing either.

"But emailing is harder," she whined. "He might not sign in all the right spots..."

I was not entirely polite when I pointed out that my husband is phenomenally more competant than the title people, and thus I trusted him to do his part if they could do theirs.

So there I stood, in the driveway of Target House, with the realtor. We'd concluded the walkthrough, during which I had been required to low-crawl through insulation in the attic.

We traded remarks about the level of distrust we had in the Title Agency of Satan. Then a light came on...

"Hey," said I. "Just curious, but can Texas people deal with a power of attorney?"

Her face lit up, and she got on the phone with the lender (who, because it's a good, professional company, was still at her desk not making excuses, but trying to find a solution). Conversation ensued.

Long story slightly less long - yes. It appears they can. Which simplifies things greatly. I immediately received a PDF of the appropriate document, forwarded it to Mr. Abby, and followed it with a phone call. Seeing as he is a pretty bright guy (entirely capable, I remain convinced, of signing in the right places on emailed documents), it will be no problem for him to sign it, get it notarized and return it via FedEx in time for the scheduled closing.

I feel much better when the slippery bits are in the hands of those I know won't fumble.

Fucking idiots.

Anyway. I felt y'all deserved a picture of what was distracting me from the normal posting. And, just because I think it's funny, I have a picture for you.

You know how no matter how much you like a house, there's always something that makes you wonder what the hell was up with the previous owner. Well, in this one, it's the kitchen wallpaper.

Ladies and Gentlemen, you'll laugh, you'll cry. May I present...the Most Hideous Wallpaper in Texas!