It’s closing day.

You take half day off, sleep in, are well rested, get ready and head to the title company.

There you meet up with your Realtor and the representative from your mortgage lender.

Then you meet with the representative for the title company, sign all your paperwork, sign away your firstborn AND second-born.

It wasn’t actually THAT bad. In the whole process, it was rather anti-climactic. I signed a bunch of paper, initialed a few pages, and we told lots of stories (and discussed good restaurants).

And then it hit me. I now own a house. Well, mostly.

After lunch, and after I got to work, the phone started ringing incessantly.

The title company called, we missed a signature on one of the million pages.

The mortgage lender called, they had an error in underwriting, and needed some extra paperwork to explain my mother’s gift of money to me (to help with funding the house).

The insurance guy called, and during the conversation we found out he hadn’t sent me the paperwork to sign yet.

This was followed by the most expensive next 30 minutes of cellphone time. 2 calls to Norway, several calls to the bank, lender, title company, etc.

I think it’s all good, and as far as I know, I’m still the owner of a new (to me) house.

Yay.