Counting Down. Sort Of.

If all went well, we were going to be in the house just in time for Thanksgiving.

And of course, it didn’t go well.

The new bank wasn’t much better than the old one. The new house appraised for less, so the bank threw a temper tantrum and gave us the “silent treatment” for a few days. It was so bad even my realtor momentarily changed sides and began to feel sorry for me (Don’t worry. That was short lived before the usual indifference set back in). What was supposed to take two days became two weeks of them not returning calls and mails, and this tactic they were pulling was common for banks: If they didn’t communicate soon and kept playing the “silent treatment” game, the bid on the house would default, and would lose my offer. That would be that.

I countered by throwing a fit of my own, and that actually gained some momentum. I had never spent so much time in my life screaming at people over the phone. Even in being a supervisor for a number of businesses, I had managed to fall better keep my cool with even the rowdiest and insubordinate of employees. Here, the only language was screaming and threats, so I had to enter the arena fully armed.

It was no wonder why my sleep schedule was shot to pieces.

But I had a nice Thanksgiving. I cooked another turducken, much to Sophie’s glee:

I actually do enjoy cooking.

I actually do enjoy cooking.

Sophie also enjoys my cooking.

Sophie also enjoys my cooking.

Best of all, we had tickets to see Bill Cosby perform live at Treasure Island, and he really is a rare gem. A rare gem filled with pudding.

One day, I will tackle hug this man.

One day, I will tackle hug this man.

The house was set to close on November 30, and due to a combo of the holidays and the usual tactics of the bank and our housing “team”… that didn’t happen so much. As in “At all”.

On to December to see if that would be the lucky month….

The dogs are just ready to move.

The dogs are just ready to move.