Hidden under forty-two Russian emails, I got an email I've been waiting for over a week with wild anticipation. It's a single paragraph requiring a banker's signature which held up a loan on a new residence for the Vyne family. We are moving back to civilization though it's not what I want to do. Sometimes it comes down to choices on behalf of others, like my children, that require me to step out of my own will and allow what needs to happen. Our bank is working on closing for tomorrow. Local friends, get your grungies ready for some serious cleanin' and paintin'. This new old house is a fixer upper for sure.
I can't publicize the name of my new road on my blog, but let's just say, it makes me giggle.
I'll be working on making my soon to be suburban home in a neighborhood (cough, gasp, wheeze, take a deep breath) into a place of peace and rest. Is that possible? Any tips out there in bloggerland?
Update: The unknown banker musta had some sort of mad and felt coerced into signing the document, so he:
1. only used his initials
2. did not sign on the seller's line
3. did not date his signature
All of which make the document invalid. I can't imagine this man's disposition when he is asked to resign something he's irked about already. So, it's back to my unfavorite game of "when will the banker decide to sign [correctly]?"
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