Pity Party
There are those who would argue that I should have had an inkling of how my week would go when I started it off by finding out that my downstairs neighbor had died.
No, that's not hyperbole. My downstairs neighbor, who was admittedly fairly elderly, passed away sometime late on Friday, as I found out early on Sunday. Her daughter and grandson were going over her things. Her family's been in and out of the apartment all week. I'm really going to miss Barbara; she was a great person with whom to chat. She had all the gossip in the complex, not that there was much. She was retired, and often had little to do beyond sitting at home, taking her dog out to walk, and chatting with everyone she passed while on said walks. Her husband had passed a couple of years back, and she'd often talked of moving back to California or moving in with one of her children, but she'd stayed here all the same. I'd noticed her recent absence; apparently, she'd been in the hospital, but had just come back home and was recovering. According to her daughter, who'd found Barbara, she'd died peacefully enough, sitting up in her chair, apparently of a heart attack.
Beyond that, it's mostly just been work-crap. I just got home about 20 minutes ago from the office, and we had what ended up being an 8:45 pm closing. It's been a muy stressful week, and I just found out this afternoon that it appears we're expected to show up on Friday. Yay, working for Big Firm. :-p Of course, I already had plans to be out of the state, so I had to call my mother (the one still recuperating at home) and tell her that it looked like I wouldn't be able to spend the weekend, as I had to work on Friday. She was disappointed--I could hear it in her voice--but determined to make the best of Thursday anyway. I've already warned people that I have 4-1/2 hours of flextime just from today, so I will not be in the office before Friday afternoon. I figure I'll go ahead and spend the night, then have brunch with the family, then head back to Office Hell.
Sadly, if I skip Friday entirely, I'm really only screwing myself. The following Monday is the end of the month, and apparently mildly Hellacious, in part because the Georgia state income tax credit for homebuyers expires after Monday. Friday is, in large part, to get ready for Monday. Luckily, I'm pretty damn efficient if thorough, so I should be fine coming in Friday afternoon.
Mom said if it would be too much to come up to visit, they'd understand, but I cut off that line of thought right quick. Even given the drive, going up there--admittedly especially for a moderately short amount of time--isn't stressful. It's actually mildly relaxing. Even when I went up to visit Mom in ICU, I certainly would have rather been there than in the office. There will be Thanksgivings when I don't make that trip, but that would be my choice and my plan, not because the idiot who passes for the Managing Partner of the Big Firm has decided that she needs to shove through more closings in order to make her Jag payments.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Oh, and I called my loan officer this afternoon to talk over options and likelihoods for closing before the end of the year. He was in a meeting, and assured me he'd call back in 30-45 minutes. It's now about 7 hours later, and no call. I'm seriously considering sending e-mail thanking him politely for his return call and telling him to cancel the application. I get paid to deal with unprofessional jerk loan officers. I see no reason to pay someone else so that I can deal with an unprofessional jerk loan officer. On the other hand, I realize that part of this is frustration from the day--including dealing with other unprofessional jerk idiot loan officers--so I suspect I'll call back tomorrow morning and offer a little gentle, professional reproof.
No, that's not hyperbole. My downstairs neighbor, who was admittedly fairly elderly, passed away sometime late on Friday, as I found out early on Sunday. Her daughter and grandson were going over her things. Her family's been in and out of the apartment all week. I'm really going to miss Barbara; she was a great person with whom to chat. She had all the gossip in the complex, not that there was much. She was retired, and often had little to do beyond sitting at home, taking her dog out to walk, and chatting with everyone she passed while on said walks. Her husband had passed a couple of years back, and she'd often talked of moving back to California or moving in with one of her children, but she'd stayed here all the same. I'd noticed her recent absence; apparently, she'd been in the hospital, but had just come back home and was recovering. According to her daughter, who'd found Barbara, she'd died peacefully enough, sitting up in her chair, apparently of a heart attack.
Beyond that, it's mostly just been work-crap. I just got home about 20 minutes ago from the office, and we had what ended up being an 8:45 pm closing. It's been a muy stressful week, and I just found out this afternoon that it appears we're expected to show up on Friday. Yay, working for Big Firm. :-p Of course, I already had plans to be out of the state, so I had to call my mother (the one still recuperating at home) and tell her that it looked like I wouldn't be able to spend the weekend, as I had to work on Friday. She was disappointed--I could hear it in her voice--but determined to make the best of Thursday anyway. I've already warned people that I have 4-1/2 hours of flextime just from today, so I will not be in the office before Friday afternoon. I figure I'll go ahead and spend the night, then have brunch with the family, then head back to Office Hell.
Sadly, if I skip Friday entirely, I'm really only screwing myself. The following Monday is the end of the month, and apparently mildly Hellacious, in part because the Georgia state income tax credit for homebuyers expires after Monday. Friday is, in large part, to get ready for Monday. Luckily, I'm pretty damn efficient if thorough, so I should be fine coming in Friday afternoon.
Mom said if it would be too much to come up to visit, they'd understand, but I cut off that line of thought right quick. Even given the drive, going up there--admittedly especially for a moderately short amount of time--isn't stressful. It's actually mildly relaxing. Even when I went up to visit Mom in ICU, I certainly would have rather been there than in the office. There will be Thanksgivings when I don't make that trip, but that would be my choice and my plan, not because the idiot who passes for the Managing Partner of the Big Firm has decided that she needs to shove through more closings in order to make her Jag payments.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Oh, and I called my loan officer this afternoon to talk over options and likelihoods for closing before the end of the year. He was in a meeting, and assured me he'd call back in 30-45 minutes. It's now about 7 hours later, and no call. I'm seriously considering sending e-mail thanking him politely for his return call and telling him to cancel the application. I get paid to deal with unprofessional jerk loan officers. I see no reason to pay someone else so that I can deal with an unprofessional jerk loan officer. On the other hand, I realize that part of this is frustration from the day--including dealing with other unprofessional jerk idiot loan officers--so I suspect I'll call back tomorrow morning and offer a little gentle, professional reproof.