I close on my house the day after tomorrow. The DAY. after. TOMORROW.
That seems so unreal, so impossible. How can this actually be happening?
Since Thursday evening I have been living in a (very stressful) state of high alert. There was an unexpected issue with my financing that, while resolvable, was enough to send me into “panic mode”. I spent Friday & Saturday taking care of it, and this entire weekend praying it is all worked out by closing time Tuesday.
But this is Sunday, and today, I can’t do anything about it. It is completely out of my hands and it is all up to the underwriter now. Besides, I don’t know if there are any potential homeowners out there who aren’t nervous a few days before closing (aside from the paid-with-cash weirdos). I can’t imagine anyone who enjoys this anticipation. I’m trying to remember that while simultaneously trying to forget all about this. Or maybe I’m just having difficulty finding the excitement under the anxiety.
So, I am trying to relax as much as possible on this last Sunday before I move–the last Sunday to not have any house projects to do, the last Sunday of a place that’s too-small to do anything. Sure, there are plenty of things to be packed, but then again, there are plenty of evenings this upcoming week to not only pack, but move. Today is about slowing down, icing my knee plenty, and enjoying this afternoon of pajamas, leftover Indian food, Adventure Time, and naps. I ate an entire pint of Bluebell Ice Cream and regret nothing.