My closing was yesterday, and I was a homeowner!

Note the past-tense.

Oh, I will be a homeowner -- officially I haven't owned the house at all yet, but I did sign everything and handed over a huge check and got a key, and my lawyer said "now, officially, you're not supposed to go in there until the deed has been registered..." and I said "OK, as far as you know, I will not be entering the house." And I then drove over there with a car full of stuff, including my TV and my computer, so I could meet the cable guy and get hooked up. I spent the day moving my clothes-on-hangers, my plants, all of my hanging artwork, and some various random items. I used the toilet on the first floor, and the plastic arm which raises the water stopper thing in the tank broke, so I went to a hardware store, bought a replacement, and repaired it. I hung a picture in the bathroom. I swept up some of the dust bunnies, and dusted everything. A small hammock had been left on the top porch, and I lay in it dreaming of spring.

And then my lawyer called me from the road at 4:15, saying there was a problem.

Apparently the bank thought it was missing a piece of paperwork which they in fact did have, and the check was very late in getting to the seller's lawyer. They got the check, finally, at 4:05 -- five minutes after the registry of deeds closed for the three day weekend. Now the seller just needed to sign some legal indemnity thing saying I would not hold her responsible if I broke my leg on the stairs or something ... But the seller's lawyer had taken off from work early, mine was in a car heading to NYC, and anyway, the seller "wasn't comfortable" signing such a thing, since those indemnity things can be contested in court.

I'm leaving out the frantic drive to the seller's law office (which was closed) and many calls with the seller's nasty, prickly realtor (though I have the seller's cell phone number, I didn't use it) in which I begged her to talk to the seller and convince her to sign the thing. But no. The most galling part was the realtor saying that the seller felt like she had already jumped through so many hoops and had bent so much throughout the process that she wasn't willing to bend any farther. What the fuck? Her expectations must have been crazy and unrealistic, because we've been super-easy about the whole deal. I even bought her furniture, for a very fair price! (I bought her house for a very fair price, too!) Apparently she's very "by the book" so blah blah blah good for her. Enjoy my giant check.

Whatever. After an embarrassing phone call with my realtor in which I was crying too much to speak clearly, I spent a few hours yesterday evening with a splitting stress headache and feeling like someone took the house and burned it to the ground. Then I recovered somewhat, and I called all of my friends who were going to help me move, I called the utilities so I would have electricity and heat in my apartment for a few more days, I rescheduled the truck rental, and resigned myself to being in this apartment a bit longer than I had planned. Everything I own is in taped-up boxes, so I can't spend this time making artwork, or reading, without doing a lot of unpacking. I definitely can't cook. And of course I have no TV or internet access. I did finally remember that I can watch DVDs on my laptop (which I'm writing on at the Woodstar right now) and I happened to have the "Stella" DVD set from work, so I watched some episodes on the couch with the cats.

My realtor has been exceptionally sympathetic through this whole thing, and she says we should do a smudge-stick-smoke-purge of the bad mojo left behind.

I guess the big move will be next weekend, which is not a three-day weekend; the present three days will be completely wasted on me. I will try to find something creative to do outside of my depressing apartment. Maybe go to some movies by myself? I don't know.