The mom versus the mortgage company

My mom is in a very bad mood today. I retreated to my cushion and am on my very best behavior.

My mom is pretty sure she will get a mortgage. SOMEbody will give her a mortgage. She has a really big down payment, a sterling credit record and good income. She has assets (although you’d never know it from her clothes, our graduate student furniture and my discounted dog treats). What she doesn’t have is time to track down documentation for the ten thousand things the bank wants yesterday.¬† The bank keeps asking for more and more things.

“Why can’t they get their act together and ask me right away?” she grumbles. “I should have gone with Sarah the real estate agent. She is a mortgage broker. We’d be almost done by now.”

Right, mom. Do I care? It’s the same cushion either way.

“If I don’t get this mortgage,” my mom says, “I am going to take off six months from work and Do Nothing. Just to show them I can.”

Yeah, right. The mom will be bored and the dog will pay the price.

“Maybe I’ll go travel and leave Gracie with Bill,” Mom said thoughtfully. “Six months or so…”

Good grief. I would love to live with Bill in New York. I could acquire a taste for muffins, although I’m not so sure about the green beans. I could play with his golden retrievers. Would I miss my mom? Depends. If Bill’s got more food and more¬† chew toys….have a good trip, Mom!

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