February 5, 2004
Dear Everyone:
For the record, “Jeannie” started it.
“Jeannie” needed to refinance her home loan. So she talked to various people and wound up at the Company Credit Union. When she found out how low the interest rates were lately, she called me and told me I should look into refinancing my place as well.
The subject has come up before, of course. But every time I looked at the possibilities, it was too much hassle for the miniscule reduction in interest compared to what I had. When I got the financing for the townhouse in the last quarter of 1997, getting an interest rate below 7% was considered quite a coup. And many people told me that, if I couldn’t get at least two full percentages below what I already had, it wasn’t worth the effort, not to mention closing costs.
But that was then, and this is now. I decided it couldn’t hurt to just look into the subject. It also helped that the “Pleasant Hill” branch of the Credit Union is closer to my office than the cafeteria. Or the copy center, for that matter.
So I wandered in and spoke with the nice home mortgage lady. A 30-year fixed loan would have had an interest rate pretty close to what I already had. But a 30-year adjustable, with the first five years fixed, look promising. I went home and found the original papers from my first mortgage. This was not difficult as they, and every other piece of paper concerning the sale of the condo and purchase of the townhouse were still in the canvas bag that I kept in my car while the process was ongoing. Only instead of being in the back seat of the car, it was leaning against the wall in the second bedroom / home office / exercise area, exactly where I put it when I moved in.
And I found out that I was paying 6.875%, rather than the 6.25% I fondly remembered. So cutting that down to 4.75% looked promising. We started the paperwork and I went off for the weekend, to help “Jeannie” pick out a new TV.
Only, when I called “Jeannie” last Friday after work I found out that she had changed the plan for that weekend. The appraiser was coming this Friday (tomorrow) and she was in a full cleaning-out-closets frenzy. There was no question about shopping for TV’s. I helped deliver numerous, very large plastic bags of clothing to various charitable organizations. “Jeannie” collects clothes the way I collect books.
Once acquired, they are never retired until a crisis forces the issue. Which reminds me, I still need to order two some-assembly-required large bookcases for the living room.
I also helped put the new steam-cleaner together, which “Jeannie” plans to use throughout her place. And which I intend to borrow some time in the future.
I had taken this Monday as a Personal Choice Holiday, just because I decided I wanted a three-day weekend. So it wasn’t until I got into the office on Tuesday that I received a message from the appraiser assigned to my place. He called me again before I had a chance to return his call.
Could he come to my place on Wednesday? “Give me the weekend to clean the place,” I pleaded. Not necessary, he assured me. How about Thursday, then?
So I spent Tuesday evening and last night doing a kind of speed-cleaning. That’s where you clean the surfaces and hope no one opens a closet or cupboard door. I put away things I may never find again. Or only when it’s time to pack and move to a new place. (One of Murphy’s Laws: What you lost in the first move, you find in the second move.)
When I got home last night, I found numerous colorful potted plants arranged on my patio and front porch. And a phone message from “Jeannie” left not three minutes before I got there. She had add the plants to give my place “curb appeal”.
Today I arranged to work in “Pleasanton”, usually
an easy thing to do, and went to my place on my lunch break.
The appraiser arrived promptly at
“Jeannie” still has to go through the appraisal tomorrow. So, while she started the whole thing, we both should get our loans approved in the next few weeks.
And “Jeannie” appears to have “neatened” the remote to her bedroom TV out of existence. I told her to look in the freezer for it.
Love, as always,
Pete
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