We sign papers in about nine hours, and even though we’ve been in escrow just about a month, it feels like this last month has crawled by. Partly, I think, it’s because of this apartment, not that the apartment itself is truly awful (I loathe it, yes, but I do tend to exaggerate a tad). If I were twenty and it was my first apartment, I’d probably think it was nifty, really, what with the decent kitchen and deep tub and all. And again, if we actually lived here, really LIVED here, with all our usual belongings, it would be a completely different case.

But we’re almost done. Tomorrow we do a walk through, at nine, and then race over to BofA, buy our cashier’s check, and go sign. In a marathon session, the escrow officer is taking the sellers right after us, and then everything will be faxed back to California, and we’ll fund same-day. This is one of those times when the two hour time difference comes in handy.

I’ve had a tradition of bringing Starbucks to escrow with me, but this year I won’t be able to do that, because of the walk-through and having to hit the bank, so I’ve sent my realtor a potted orange chrysanthemum, all decked out for Halloween, and sporting a mini-pumpkin. Or at least that was the picture on the TCU Florist website. I’ve no idea if she likes mums, but, as flowers go, they’re fairly innocuous, even if they are orange. And hey, seasonal is always fun.

One of the biggest differences I’ve noticed between California and Texas real estate is the pace. Aiee. While I’m sure part of the impression is caused by being in nesting limbo, it seems as if everything here moves at a snail’s pace. Things stay on the market months, not weeks, and there’s this funky “option” period which last far longer than the contractual three days I’m accustomed to, in which one can change one’s mind. (This should not be construed as a complaint. Really, I’m not complaining, I’m just accustomed to a faster pace, and it’s been difficult for me to adjust.) Also, and I don’t know if this is a normal thing, or just the way my Realtor operates, before anyone writes an offer in California, the Realtors on both ends have talked a bit, and felt each other out, so you pretty much know, going in, if you’re going to have an acceptance, and if there will be scary issues. That doesn’t seem to be the case, so much, here.

The other issue I’ve had with this whole transaction is control. The last two times we bought property, I pretty much processed my own loan, and the underwriter worked with me as the processer, and I was much more involved. In this case, I’m not using my own company because we’re not approved in Texas, yet, and so I feel out of the loop because I’m JUST a client.

Thankfully, the people at the lender I’m working with are new enough that they’re greatful I know more than they do, instead of annoyed, and have given me every piece of information I asked for. I did have to lecture them about pushing for an early close, two weeks ago, and then NOT BEING READY today, but things are working out.

So, why is this entry titled “sleepless” instead of “antsy”? Well, we went to bed at nine-thirty, and I was tired, but the dogs aren’t accustomed to being in bed that early (and neither are we) and Zorro spent the last forty minutes walking back and forth across my rib cage. He only weighs eight pounds, but when all eight of those pounds are balanced on one tiny foot that is wedged between two of your ribs, they feel like a thousand.

Also, I did something to the nerve in my right hip, and it’s killing me. I’m going to blame this very uncomfortable, office cafeteria chair that I’ve been using, as well as the fact that three flights of stairs have made me not really want to go out and move around much. Having one of Cleo’s bully sticks underneath me for half the night (she “buried” it in the bed, apparently) didn’t help. Ibuprofen and icy hot took the edge off, but it’s that wrap-around pain that feels almost like a kidney infection – only almost – but since I never drink enough I’m sitting here guzzling red gatorade while I babble at my blog.

And there you have it.
I am sleepless.