We closed this morning. It was quite an experience. The seller's agent, as I have mentioned, is incompetent, Middle Eastern, and a jerk. His lawyer, not surprisingly, turned out to be Middle Eastern and a jerk, although I can't say anything to his competence, not being a lawyer. So there was much shouting in Arabic among the seller's party and more shouting in English in our direction, and lots of threats and insults and that kind of thing. And once each point had been settled, everybody was buddies again. Barak, who loves watching people more than anything, was entranced. He sat in my lap for much of the time, helping me sign the papers ("Your hand's probably tired, Imma. Here, give me that pen and I'll do it for you!") and then toodled up and down the hall investigating the title office with my husband trailing after him. All in all, not terrible or horribly stressful. No last-minute derailments or surprises, which is what I was really worried about.
One thing that did surprise me, though, was how worked up their lawyer got over various things (that, frankly, they were trying to get away with). His voice shook. His hands shook. He had an incredibly strong facial tic that seemed to be trying to wrench his eye out of its socket. I started wondering, uncharitably, what his blood pressure was like and what would happen to the closing if he had a stroke, and whether there was a set policy for what you did at a closing if a lawyer keeled over dead in the middle of the proceedings. Fortunately, we did not have to find this out, as we all survived. And not only that, they did not get away with anything they tried to get away with, because they needed to sell more than we needed to buy and everybody there knew it. The staring contests were fun. I am very good at staring contests. I can even beat my cat.
So now we need to pack.
And I get to shop for appliances.
Mmmm. [In voice of Homer Simpson on doughnuts.] Appliances.
I'm old, aren't I.
4 comments:
MHH, who is standing next to me, wants me to post an addendum on his behalf.
He wants to declare to the world that we are both aware that not everyone from the Middle East is a jerk. (I agree. My best friend from grad school is married to an Iranian. He is not a jerk. He is, in fact, extremely sweet. He does, however, shout.)
MHH also wants to register his memory that the lawyer was not speaking Arabic, and he's not sure that he was Middle Eastern at all (although there's no doubt that the rest of them were.)
And he also points out that people reading my blog might think that I think that all Arabs are loud jerks with facial tics. I don't.
And he would also like the world to know that even though he didn't want to go to the walk through, on the grounds that it was bittul zman, he does do lots of other things around the house, and in fact changed an extremely poopy diaper only this morning.
Of course not everyone from the Middle East is a jerk! Only the ones who are involved in real estate transactions with you...
MAZAL TOV on closing! Is your hand tired yet?
And if lusting after appliances makes you old, then I am positively ancient.
Of course not everyone from the Middle East is a jerk! Only the ones who are involved in real estate transactions with you...
MAZAL TOV on closing! Is your hand tired yet?
And if lusting after appliances makes you old, then I am positively ancient.
Many many happy congratulations. About darn time, and may you have much joy picking out said appliances!
Uh, "bittul zman"? And tell him he does get appreciation points for the poopy diaper, good man.
Jasmin
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