Limboland is THE WORST place to have to spend any time at all, much less weeks. Although our loan had been approved by the mortgage company and we knew the newly-completed appraisal was the last puzzle piece that needed to fit into place, I was nonetheless gripped by fear that something would happen to stop the closing from happening or delay it. First I worried how long it was taking until we could set the date, then when we got the date, I worried that something would happen before or at the closing itself. Like the title company would ask us something we didn’t know how to answer and abort the whole transaction. Or the underwriters would have found out that in 1981 I forgot to pay my Sears’ bill once and got assessed a late fee. Anything could come crawling out of the cracks of our past!
We chose to have the closing near the office of our loan originator because it was only a couple miles from where our log shell was being built, and if we survived the closing, we wanted to go visit our logs as a reward for, well, surviving the closing.
The closing turned out to be a quiet, pleasant affair with just the representative from the title company and our loan originator, Paula. We signed about thirty different pieces of paper and 40 minutes later it was over and Paula presented us with a lovely bottle of chardonnay. We were really glad she was able to attend herself, considering the fact that nearly a decade ago it was because of her encouragement that we believed we could ever afford to build our own log home. It took a while for the gravity of the event to sink in. Even over beer and pizza before heading over to see our logs it was hard to believe all that fretting was over. Once we started to build, there would be a whole new set of anxieties, but at least we were on this side of the money part! The closing was a go or no-go situation…everything else is negotiation.
The builders had the shell mostly in place through the first floor and five or six courses of logs. It looked even more beautiful than the last time…probably because now we knew they were really, truly ours. We’d just signed thirty sheets of paper that made that so!