Saturday September 11, 2004 // By Sandy
Hush hush
Nothing’s really been happening, homebuying-wise, for a few weeks. No calls from the lender, from the attorney, or really from our agent. The only time I’ve spoken with M., our agent, was on Monday at our housecooling party, which was when he explained all this inactivity was due to what’s called The Quiet Period. I surreptitiously looked around and started talking in whispers, but that’s not what he meant.
Apparently, as buyers, the few weeks before the closing involve a lot of finger-drumming and idle whistling. Meanwhile, the attorneys on both sides engage in a ritual of furious fax-ocity. So it’s not too quiet for them, it seems. I guess it’s like a surprise party—they’re the throwers, furiously planning away up to the last minute, and we’re the guests of honor, minding our own business until the day of reckoning. “Surprise! You’re giving us all your money! (Hope no one spoiled it for you!)”
I’m glad I got that sorted out with M. The last time I was involved in a quiet period was when the dot-com I was working for tried to go public. And I think we all know how stories like that tend to turn out. So forgive me if I finding the quiet period a tad… disquieting.
Nonetheless I spent much of the closing month sitting in my apartment and rapidly going crazy. What have I gotten myself into? Am I doing the right thing? Is my loan really going to get approved? How the hell am I going to move this couch down the stairs? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my hair started to recede that month (and then thankfully reclaimed my forehead once I had the keys and was moved in).
All those questions that Luke asked himself I’ve asked myself as well—and boy do I have my own couch-moving problems—but they’ve all been quickly answered by the observation that all my friends seem to be happy and content and (for the most part) not losing their hair. And since they all seem to be gathering their food from grocery stores and not dumpsters, I believe that the process hasn’t left them all financially destitute.
So while I may engage in a little worrying from time to time, it’s not the level of worrying that brings grown men to tears. I let Luke, etc., take care of that ritual for me.