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12/1/12

by @ 5:32 pm on December 1, 2012. Filed under Life

Time to let me know if you want a holiday postcard (featuring a Crooked Acres permanent resident). (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .

I’ll take names and addresses until December 20th.

If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.

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How the holy hell did it get to be December already, I ask you? I finally got around to making a new Bitchypoo banner to reflect the holidays.

I wonder how long I’ll leave THAT one up.

To update on The Alvin (refinancing) Situation, we signed the refi papers on Wednesday. Alvin was a fucking pain in the ass right up ’til the last possible moment, and I remain convinced that Alvin doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

Oh, and the appraisal! That happened about a week after Fred read Alvin the riot act. Hey, guess what? When the appraiser comes IN the house and actually does measurements and sees that there’s a second floor with his own eyes, the value of the house goes up quite a bit. GO FIGURE. He told Fred that he hates doing external appraisals (which is apparently a real thing, which I find more than a little mystifying) because it’s so hard to do them right and the homeowners get irate, etc.

He also told Fred that the problem with our house is that it’s a “unique property” and while that’s good as far as we’re concerned because we love our wood walls and hardwood floors and such, it makes it hard to find comparable properties for the appraisal.

In any case, the value of the house went up enough to make the refinancing of said house worth our time and effort (though I killed Alvin in my mind at least once a day), and the papers are signed. Our monthly mortgage payment went down by about 25%, which is good. We got a good interest rate which is also good because we are never ever ever EEEEEEEEEEEVER going to refinance again, as long as I live.

Fred repeatedly told Alvin that the closing would need to take place in Madison (or even closer to Smallville, if possible so that we wouldn’t have to drive to South Huntsville because we are pretty pretty princesses), and that it had to be in the late afternoon. REPEATEDLY, Alvin offered mid-morning closings in South Huntsville. Grrrr. Finally, Alvin mentioned meeting the lawyer at Panera Bread (I always want to type “Pantera” instead of “Panera”), and the time he suggested was “lunch time.”

(This is a thing here in the South, where they suggest “lunch time” as though it’s a real time on the clock and ALSO it’s a different time depending on who’s suggesting it. THIS IS NOT PROFESSIONAL BEHAVIOR, PEOPLE.)

Finally, Fred said “Wednesday, at noon, at Panera Bread. We will be there, ALVIN.” Alvin told him that the lawyer would meet us then, and as we were standing in front of Panera at noon on Wednesday, I said “How are we supposed to know who he is?”, because that place was PACKED.

Fred said “Alvin said to look for the guy who looks like a lawyer.”

Just as I was opening my mouth to suggest that someone looking for Alvin would have to look for someone who looks like a useless piece of shit, I saw a man I knew without a doubt was the lawyer. It was nice out, so we sat on the patio and signed papers for half an hour, shook his hand, and were on our way.

So anyway, the point of this fascinating rambling: the papers are signed, the refinance is done and over with, and we’re saving some damn money.

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Previously
2011: They were not as enthusiastic as we’d hoped.
2010: “Marcia Brady! You can’t dump Big Man on Campus Doug Simpson! What will Joe Namath say when he stops by to see how we Bradys are doing? You’ll get a reputation!”
2009: And no matter what I do, the faint smell of seared chicken hovers faintly throughout the house.
2008: At least Sadie loves me.
2007: Where Muh Daddy?! Starring Fricasee “Frick” And3rson
2006: You know, Maxi and Newt. The cats who AREN’T OURS.
2005: “Vivacious! Tell her she’s VIVACIOUS, Dr. Phil!”
2004: I eat too much of the wrong kind of food and am lazy.
2003: “IT’S JESUS DYING ON THE CROSS! HOW CAN THAT POSSIBLY BE CONFUSING YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKERS?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Here’s a tip: If they’re your own children, it’s NEVER “babysitting.”
1999: I’m feeling incredibly lazy today (like that’s something new).

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