I spent almost the entire day on the phone with brokers and banks. Talk about something that will put you in a crappy mood! Plus it was raining and no, it wasn't the close-down-the-city, almost-a-hurricane rain, but that didn't stop "them" from closing down the city, so I couldn't talk to my girl at the title company.
I really shouldn't call her my "girl" at the title company. After all, she is a professional. I was actually called "dear" by a mortgage broker today. I nearly flipped my lid. I chose to be professional and take the high road. I didn't cuss. I didn't rant. I simply set him straight on what his competitors were offering. He finally conceded that he couldn't do any better and suggested that I should take one of the other offers. I told him, "Don't worry, dear, that is exactly what I am going to do."
I will get back at it tomorrow. I will be calling the Hasidic Italian Enforcer (that's the HIE to you). He's found his inner-Trump and could possibly give the Donald some lessons. If all else fails, I'm going to my Chic network to see what Girl Power can really do.
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