Seriously—how many people do you know that can say that Stephen King helped them move? And I don’t mean this is some English-major-ish “I was inspired by the books” or some professory “I published an article and it helped me get a new job” way, either. I mean that by the time today is over, I will literally be able to say, “Stephen King helped me load my moving truck.”

You’ve probably figured out the catch by now…. While I will be able to say that, it won’t be that Stephen King that I’m talking about, and given that fact, and how common a name it actually seems to be, there are probably lots of people out there who can say it.

But, as a fan of that Stephen King, I plan to say it anyway. And here’s how it really works. A colleague, who has also become a friend, at Capital, Kelly Messinger, and her husband, Steve King, are going to help me load my moving truck tonight. Maybe the neighbors will feel guilty about their promised help never materializing, and lend a hand, too. (Or maybe they’re hoping that if they don’t help, I won’t leave, and they don’t have to worry about getting an asshole for a new neighbor.)

But all is not joy, happiness, wine, and roses in the moving saga—oh no, not yet. And here’s the whole story, back to shortly after my offer was accepted within 20 minutes of me making it.

They send all their disclosures, including the summary section of a home inspection they had done a while ago. I decided not to do an inspection, but rather to follow the inspection report’s advice and skip directly to the “evaluation by a licensed general contractor” portion of the program, before I said 100% yes. Fortunately, my broker’s husband is such a person, and he went out and evaluated the issues described in the inspection report, which were phrased bluntly and graphically in the report (remember this fact, it’s important). The Contractor, though, said, basically, “No worries”—in the short term. There’s some stuff that will need fixing, but not right away. So, all good; I accept their terms for the house, and things, like my mortgage application, move forward.

Okay fast forward like two weeks (or maybe three). My credit is good, my income is sufficient, but the fact that my name was, for a while, on the deed to the ex’s house, and hasn’t not been for three years, makes me not a first-time homebuyer, even though it was the ex, not me, who owned two houses (yes, I lived in the first one, and had my name on the second one, but I’ve never really owned a house before). Not to worry though, my banker is good at her job and has found another solid program for getting me financed. Hooray! But the underwriter doesn’t like that I won’t get my first Lees-McRae paycheck until 25 September and my first mortgage payment will be due August 1; forget the fact that this is pretty much a standard in my industry (higher ed…) and that I’ve got (then) 3 (now 2) more paychecks coming from Capital (June, July, and August 25). Nevermind.

Again being good at her job, the banker goes to a second underwriter, who says no problem. And the wheels are in motion again. (We’re up to last Thursday or so, by this point). I call my insurance agent here, for a referral to a new agent down there, and call the new agent to get my car insurance transferred (no problem, stop in when you get here) and set up homeowner’s insurance.

And here’s where the fun begins. Both the underwriter and the insurance guy got their hands on the appraiser’s report (not the home inspection, mind you, but what the bank’s appraiser had to say). They both keyed in on the roof, which has been patched. They both think it should be replaced, immediately. So here’s the catch-22: I can’t (won’t?) replace the roof until I own the house, I can’t close on the house until I get insurance, and I can’t get insurance until I replace the roof.

But my broker assures me that this happens. The insurance people seem to be backing down a bit about getting the roof fixed, and the underwriter may yet be okay with the word of a licensed contractor (rather than a home inspector) about the state of the house. That’s what we’re waiting to hear about, now. The contractor is writing a letter evaluating the house so the underwriter can see that we’re not just trusting my sense of things. The insurance inspector seems to be okay with things as they are for the time being, but isn’t sure his boss will be. The broker is working hard to get things done and to keep me calm. And I’m getting ready to load a truck and leave town tomorrow, in the (perhaps vain) hope that I’ll still be closing tomorrow.

And, as if all of this wasn’t enough, here’s what’s up in my family. On Sunday, my parents went to my sister’s in-laws’ place (where my sister, brother-in-law, and the kids were for my brother-in-law’s sister’s wedding). Now my brother-in-law’s mom is a minister, and my brother-in-law, though an engineer by training, preached at her church on Sunday (that’s why my parents went).

Long story short. Dad and my niece and nephew went back to the other grandparents’ and were waiting on Mom and everyone else, and my nephew (he’s 7) decided that he’d be a daredevil, and—I’m still not 100% clear on this—but there was a board of some sort and a hill and a drop-off involved. You see where this is going…. Broken wrist. Green twig fracture in the ulna (not a big deal, every 7-year-old boy should have one); broken growth plate in the wrist on the radius. Okay, so Sunday is spent in the ER in Wheeling, and then they drive home to Nashville (work on Monday and all). So the day Monday is spent with the primary care physican, and getting a referral to an orthopedic surgeon, and all that good stuff. Meanwhile, they’ve got my nephew on the pediatric equivalent of Tylenol3. But it’s not knocking him out.

So, things are looking up. My sister planned to go to her dentist appointment (chipped tooth) yesterday, and wait for the surgeon’s office at Vanderbilt to call. Yeah, that was the plan. The call she got instead was from my brother-in-law saying he’d been in an accident on the way to work. So she went to where he was and took him to the ER (I can understand not wanting to ride in an ambulance, especially when the trip is more precautionary, because of traumas and surgeries past, than for anything new). He’s okay, nothing wrong, but his PT Cruiser is probably totalled. So no dentist appointment. And no call from the surgeon at Vanderbilt. The GP’s nurse didn’t call them.

So they got in with a different surgeon yesterday, and he’s beginning treatment of my nephew’s arm today. We’ll see how that goes, but they’re talking general anesthesia for the procedure today, so….

So, how was your day? =)