I bet when I laid out our house and escrow timeline a couple weeks ago, those of you who have bought houses laughed and laughed. “Oh, those silly Spohrs,” you thought, “so naive to think they’ll get their house in only seventeen days! They are so precious.”
All of you homeowners were right.
Escrow has been extended for another fourteen days. Every day since I left for New York I have died 1,000 tiny deaths at the hands of stress and math. I mean seriously, why do I have to do math to buy a house? That’s just silly.
I still don’t know what escrow means, but I know that I HATE IT.
If you were keeping track of my calendar of events, I was in New York City the day escrow was supposed to close. Thinking ahead, I signed over power of attorney to Mike so he could sign all the documents to make the house legally ours. He started making jokes about having control over me a la Britney Spears’ dad over Britney. His grasp on conservatorship versus power of attorney made me temporarily question how quickly I handed over control. It turns out it didn’t matter, because escrow didn’t close. I’ve considered terminating the power of attorney but it’s been nice to have him sign things for me. “Oh Mike, you have to pay this bill because my signature means nothing.”
So what’s the hold up? Some random tax thing. Seriously, a one page form from the IRS is all our entire purchase is hinging on. And you want to know WHY we don’t have that one page form from the IRS? Because we filed our taxes by mail. When presented with the option of e-filing or sending in our tax forms the old-fashioned way, we said, “E-file? That sounds like a disease! No sir, we’ll fill out our tax forms with this here typewriter and send them off to the internal revenue service with an envelope and a stamp! E-file! Pshaw! What has technology done for anyone, it’s just a fad!”
Every day I was gone, Mike had some new doom and gloom update. Then I would have a breakdown where I made up swear words and spoke in tongues, and one of my friends would have to try to figure out what was wrong while my head spun around and I babbled incoherently. I finally told Mike to only call me if he had good news. Then my phone stopped ringing, and that made me curl up in a ball and recite the Greek alphabet backwards. It wasn’t pretty for anyone involved.
We’ve figured out a fix, and if all goes according to plan (HA), we’ll have the keys to the house in two weeks or less. But I’m not going to feel like it’s really ours until we’re in there and I’ve changed the locks. No takesie backsies!