Close as I get to a Mental Health Day....
Mar. 9th, 2021 07:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThe only thing I had scheduled for work today was a phone court hearing at 1. I was still dragging a bit from the full rich plate I'd gone through last week plus a fairly stressful hearing the day before, so I resolved to stay close to home.
We still had refi things to do. The bulk of the electronic paperwork got completed yesterday, and we fired off the final couple of signed forms this morning. I had to wait for the processor to call to take my credit card information over the phone for the application and appraisal fees. Then Eleanor wanted to sit in with me for the several-time-monthly ritual of.... Ray Pays The Bills! (It's not as fun as Howard Picks The Bills, but nobody's wasting time on Sabres predictions right now:P)
It was a surreal, and ultimately fun, experience. For about half our marriage, we kept our paychecks and checking accounts mostly separate, but gradually morphed into a joint arrangement which I almost entirely ran. Worried about the prospect of her facing five-figure monthly outflows with no idea how to manage them if I got hit by a bus, she asked me to prepare notes and then demo the process. I helpfully created a Word document titled In Case Of Being Hit By Bus. I listed a few examples from this manifesto here a few weeks ago, because we were going to start doing it in February. But with various things going on in life- including the major diversions of the refis (plural- an original effort died on the vine), the windshield, the dryer and, oh, the cat? We began today.
Among other things, it was the first time she saw where I stored the links to the actual billpay sites on my laptop. Somehow nobody had ever told her that both Firefox and Chrome let you stack bookmarks in folders that can be pinned to a menu bar. Not knowing this, she had a string of sites two screens off the screen that she had to scroll through horizontally instead of just clicking the second link in something like a "billpay" bookmark folder.
We finished this payment project about an hour before my court call- which, of course, is when everyone and their brother suddenly decided to call ME on my work line. Including a realtor, calling out of the blue to see if we wanted to list our house with him. Hmmmm, I wondered, the bank just placed the order for our refi appraisal with the company that does that, and a realtor is calling minutes later. I wonder if there's some amazon adsense thing they share data through. (Or maybe it's because someone around the corner from us just put their house on the market. About our size, smaller garage, nothing special in the yard and backed up right to an expressway. It sold after two weekends. The listing said Offers Due March 2 at 5 p.m., because that's what sellers around here can do now. The listing price was thousands above what we need our appraisal to come in at, and houses in this area and price range have been producing multiple above-asking offers. Walking the dog this morning, I thought I saw a dumpster on their lawn and thought, shit, I hope it's not a fixer-upper that's going to tank our value. But that was in front of the house next door, which may also be getting ready to sell.)
But then the actual appraiser called, and he wanted to get in the house tomorrow. No problem; Eleanor's off again. Only problem is that he wanted to see our survey. We've been through at least four refi's since we bought this place, and none of them ever required a new survey- either nothing at all, or an "affidavit of no change." Since 1994. Whatever. So we spent going on two hours after my otherwise brief and acceptable court conference in a lovely game of dumpster-diving. Eleanor, in records of roof replacements and other household things, me in old files in the garage that included the two most recent go-rounds in 2013 and 2016.
Survey says....
Not in any of those places. We did find, and were able to throw out, a ton of useless papers at both ends of our paperwork housekeeping- long canceled insurance policies, manuals for departed appliances and electronics, vet records for pets who died a decade or more ago. (I told her to keep Evil Cat's, in case we're up for the Nobel Peace Prize;) Still, I started to worry that the needed paperwork was in our original purchase file from 1994 which, although deliberately not thrown out, is likely up in the eaves above the (much larger than the one that just sold) garage.
But then I had a vague recollection of thinking, once: let's put these papers in a safe place where they won't get lost. Not only the original survey, but the search, aka the abstract of title, the bound record of every transaction affecting the land going back to the Holland Land Purcase of the 1790s.
But where?
Try under my fucking nose.
----
Both before and especially after leaving my last full-time Rochester firm and starting my own here in 2006, I've always worked at least a little from home. Until moving to an actual full-time local physical office in 2015, I had landlines for business voice and fax lines coming into this house, the cable/internet is still set up to center on my home office desk, and, oops I forgot, when Eleanor was working in furniture sales back then, she got me a two-drawer file cabinet to hold all the files I was working on. These days, I rarely even open it, as it's mostly is a repository of lost causes of former clients and souvenir beer cans from baseball games- but there, in the bottom drawer?
The whole file from our 2003 refi, including both the search and the original survey.
The latter, just a one-page legal-size document, is now in our strongbox in the hall closet with a note on it saying SEARCH IS IN THE BOTTOM FILE CABINET DRAWER IN OFFICE. On the larger search document, back where I found it, is another note saying SURVEY IS IN THE HALL CLOSET STRONGBOX. Both in 48 point type, because these eyes ain't getting any sharper. Eleanor will deliver the latter when the dude gets here tomorrow afternoon, because I will still be in the midst of vaccination glory.
Just not exactly when or where I thought it would be.
----
As the day went on, we laughed, we ate, I considered napping but my phone had other plans. Finally, I headed out for Wegmans, wine and a quick detour to my office just to make sure nothing good, or more likely weird, had arrived in my brief absence, since I knew I'd be away all day tomorrow, too, for my first COVID owie.
Best move of the entire day.
A few weeks ago, I scored that Dr. Fauci candle from Record Archive in Rochester, and I picked up a second of it as a belated Christmas present for my friend and beloved former co-worker Cindy. Well, you can never be too former around my office, because she's been back in helping out a day here and there the past couple of weeks. I said hello to Cindy when I was in, and she happened to mention that she's going to start trying, because the Vacc-a-Mole rules changed again- and anyone over 50 can now get one through the state site starting tomorrow:) She's actually a little older than I am, but healthy brat that she is, no comorbities.
But she also mentioned that they just lowered the eligibility at pharmacies- including the dreaded Walgreens- to people over 60, starting tomorrow.
THAT'S ME!
After I got home, I checked on the old findvaccine dot org thing and they had nothing here in Buffalo- but they did have availabilities in Rochester (Monroe Avenue in Brighton) for late tomorrow AND the second three weeks later. So no Syracuse for this guy!
True confession: since their scheduling website wasn't updated yet, I lied like a rug and told it I was over 65. BUT I immediately called the pharmacist and confirmed it was okay and that I would get the appointment.
So I messaged Cindy, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU when this is over I will love you and hug you and name you George.
As for Fauci, I think I have to place a personal ad thanking St. Anthony, for favors received:)
PS- Minutes ago, the Rochester pharmacy called me- after I'd just canceled my Syracuse appointment like a responsible citizen. I was madly afraid they'd changed the rules yet again and were about to tell me that because I lied about 65 I couldn't book until midnight when it actually rolled down to 60. But no- it was basically a buttdial.
And here I thought they gave you the injections in the arm;) (It's Moderna, btw- and the second one is already booked, also in Rochester, for April 7.)
We still had refi things to do. The bulk of the electronic paperwork got completed yesterday, and we fired off the final couple of signed forms this morning. I had to wait for the processor to call to take my credit card information over the phone for the application and appraisal fees. Then Eleanor wanted to sit in with me for the several-time-monthly ritual of.... Ray Pays The Bills! (It's not as fun as Howard Picks The Bills, but nobody's wasting time on Sabres predictions right now:P)
It was a surreal, and ultimately fun, experience. For about half our marriage, we kept our paychecks and checking accounts mostly separate, but gradually morphed into a joint arrangement which I almost entirely ran. Worried about the prospect of her facing five-figure monthly outflows with no idea how to manage them if I got hit by a bus, she asked me to prepare notes and then demo the process. I helpfully created a Word document titled In Case Of Being Hit By Bus. I listed a few examples from this manifesto here a few weeks ago, because we were going to start doing it in February. But with various things going on in life- including the major diversions of the refis (plural- an original effort died on the vine), the windshield, the dryer and, oh, the cat? We began today.
Among other things, it was the first time she saw where I stored the links to the actual billpay sites on my laptop. Somehow nobody had ever told her that both Firefox and Chrome let you stack bookmarks in folders that can be pinned to a menu bar. Not knowing this, she had a string of sites two screens off the screen that she had to scroll through horizontally instead of just clicking the second link in something like a "billpay" bookmark folder.
We finished this payment project about an hour before my court call- which, of course, is when everyone and their brother suddenly decided to call ME on my work line. Including a realtor, calling out of the blue to see if we wanted to list our house with him. Hmmmm, I wondered, the bank just placed the order for our refi appraisal with the company that does that, and a realtor is calling minutes later. I wonder if there's some amazon adsense thing they share data through. (Or maybe it's because someone around the corner from us just put their house on the market. About our size, smaller garage, nothing special in the yard and backed up right to an expressway. It sold after two weekends. The listing said Offers Due March 2 at 5 p.m., because that's what sellers around here can do now. The listing price was thousands above what we need our appraisal to come in at, and houses in this area and price range have been producing multiple above-asking offers. Walking the dog this morning, I thought I saw a dumpster on their lawn and thought, shit, I hope it's not a fixer-upper that's going to tank our value. But that was in front of the house next door, which may also be getting ready to sell.)
But then the actual appraiser called, and he wanted to get in the house tomorrow. No problem; Eleanor's off again. Only problem is that he wanted to see our survey. We've been through at least four refi's since we bought this place, and none of them ever required a new survey- either nothing at all, or an "affidavit of no change." Since 1994. Whatever. So we spent going on two hours after my otherwise brief and acceptable court conference in a lovely game of dumpster-diving. Eleanor, in records of roof replacements and other household things, me in old files in the garage that included the two most recent go-rounds in 2013 and 2016.
Survey says....
Not in any of those places. We did find, and were able to throw out, a ton of useless papers at both ends of our paperwork housekeeping- long canceled insurance policies, manuals for departed appliances and electronics, vet records for pets who died a decade or more ago. (I told her to keep Evil Cat's, in case we're up for the Nobel Peace Prize;) Still, I started to worry that the needed paperwork was in our original purchase file from 1994 which, although deliberately not thrown out, is likely up in the eaves above the (much larger than the one that just sold) garage.
But then I had a vague recollection of thinking, once: let's put these papers in a safe place where they won't get lost. Not only the original survey, but the search, aka the abstract of title, the bound record of every transaction affecting the land going back to the Holland Land Purcase of the 1790s.
But where?
Try under my fucking nose.
----
Both before and especially after leaving my last full-time Rochester firm and starting my own here in 2006, I've always worked at least a little from home. Until moving to an actual full-time local physical office in 2015, I had landlines for business voice and fax lines coming into this house, the cable/internet is still set up to center on my home office desk, and, oops I forgot, when Eleanor was working in furniture sales back then, she got me a two-drawer file cabinet to hold all the files I was working on. These days, I rarely even open it, as it's mostly is a repository of lost causes of former clients and souvenir beer cans from baseball games- but there, in the bottom drawer?
The whole file from our 2003 refi, including both the search and the original survey.
The latter, just a one-page legal-size document, is now in our strongbox in the hall closet with a note on it saying SEARCH IS IN THE BOTTOM FILE CABINET DRAWER IN OFFICE. On the larger search document, back where I found it, is another note saying SURVEY IS IN THE HALL CLOSET STRONGBOX. Both in 48 point type, because these eyes ain't getting any sharper. Eleanor will deliver the latter when the dude gets here tomorrow afternoon, because I will still be in the midst of vaccination glory.
Just not exactly when or where I thought it would be.
----
As the day went on, we laughed, we ate, I considered napping but my phone had other plans. Finally, I headed out for Wegmans, wine and a quick detour to my office just to make sure nothing good, or more likely weird, had arrived in my brief absence, since I knew I'd be away all day tomorrow, too, for my first COVID owie.
Best move of the entire day.
A few weeks ago, I scored that Dr. Fauci candle from Record Archive in Rochester, and I picked up a second of it as a belated Christmas present for my friend and beloved former co-worker Cindy. Well, you can never be too former around my office, because she's been back in helping out a day here and there the past couple of weeks. I said hello to Cindy when I was in, and she happened to mention that she's going to start trying, because the Vacc-a-Mole rules changed again- and anyone over 50 can now get one through the state site starting tomorrow:) She's actually a little older than I am, but healthy brat that she is, no comorbities.
But she also mentioned that they just lowered the eligibility at pharmacies- including the dreaded Walgreens- to people over 60, starting tomorrow.
THAT'S ME!
After I got home, I checked on the old findvaccine dot org thing and they had nothing here in Buffalo- but they did have availabilities in Rochester (Monroe Avenue in Brighton) for late tomorrow AND the second three weeks later. So no Syracuse for this guy!
True confession: since their scheduling website wasn't updated yet, I lied like a rug and told it I was over 65. BUT I immediately called the pharmacist and confirmed it was okay and that I would get the appointment.
So I messaged Cindy, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU when this is over I will love you and hug you and name you George.
As for Fauci, I think I have to place a personal ad thanking St. Anthony, for favors received:)
PS- Minutes ago, the Rochester pharmacy called me- after I'd just canceled my Syracuse appointment like a responsible citizen. I was madly afraid they'd changed the rules yet again and were about to tell me that because I lied about 65 I couldn't book until midnight when it actually rolled down to 60. But no- it was basically a buttdial.
And here I thought they gave you the injections in the arm;) (It's Moderna, btw- and the second one is already booked, also in Rochester, for April 7.)
no subject
Date: 2021-03-10 05:17 am (UTC)I just received my second Moderna jab on Friday, and it was as many folks have reported: An asskicker.
I would recommend against scheduling anything for the day after the 2nd shot, and have some acetaminophen handy. It's only 24 hours-ish, but it's rough.
The first shot is not noteworthy, some muscle pain at the injection site for a day was all I felt, but it does do a wonderful job pf prepping your immune system fo the virus, and when that second shot happens, it's war.
Which is a very good sign, as I understand it. Means your body recognizes and reacts appropriately to the virus signature. But you may end up feeling like war games have been played in your corpus.
Woo hoo!!
Date: 2021-03-10 11:13 am (UTC)