Excuse my long absence from these pages, but I have been literally buried in mounds of paperwork and have just now managed to tunnel out for a bit of a breather.
The most recent events on The Road to Brookwood Court have us embroiled in the process of Applying for A Mortgage.
Portentious and important stuff, yes?
I had no idea.
Now it isn’t as if we’ve never had a mortgage before. In the last 10 years, we actually had two – one on each of the home we have in Florida. And while I certainly remember there being paperwork involved, it paled in comparison to the reams and reams of papers needed to apply for a mortgage today.
And it isn’t only tax statements and bank statements – those you would expect. It’s proofs of insurance and copies of deposit slips and copies of all the checks you’ve cashed in the last two months and copies of the credit card accounts you’ve paid off and letters from the bank and letters from the tenant in the rental house and and and and….
Every day it’s another email with requests for more information.
And why? It’s not because we’re asking for an overly large sum of money. Nor is it because our credit rating is bad.
It’s because THE GOVERNMENT requires it. THE GOVERNMENT needs to see every check I’ve deposited in the bank in the past two months, even the 10.00 rebate check from the oil change at the Ford Dealer.
But it’s the cash deposit that almost did us in. A while ago I deposited some cash into my checking account. You remember cash don’t you? It’s the green paper that you can use to buy thing with? Comes in different denominations and usually has the face of a President on it?
Well, I happened to have some cash and- not realizing the danger – deposited it into my checking account.
“Oh well this is just a real problem,” my nervous mortgage consultant told me.
“We might have to produce an affidavit explaining where this cash came from, otherwise THE GOVERNMENT thinks you’re laundering money.”
Holy Freaking Cow.
After I spent about 10 minutes railing against THE GOVERNMENT and how they needed to stay out of my f#&*(%^ business, my husband looked at me over the top of the reading glasses he was using to read the fine print on even more papers.
“Careful,” he said. “You’re beginning to sound like a Republican.”
Sigh. Now that’s a real reason to fear the cash deposit.
Never mind, we will not let these ridiculous rules and regulations deter us from our final goal. We will continue to collect all the minutiae required in all the acceptable formats.
However, if I don’t surface until after the closing, you’ll know I’ve been consumed by the monster that is THE GOVERNMENT.
But I won’t go down without a fight.