I emailed our realtor today, going “Dude, wtf, is the bank ever going to sign the fucking acceptance? I’m going a little crazy over here.” Or, y’know, words to that effect.
A little while later, she phoned me up to say she’d called the listing agent, who said, “Hmmm … let me check my email … oh, would you look at this? I got the acceptance yesterday. Don’t I feel like a dumbass now.” Or words to that effect.
So you know what this means, right? Unless there’s something seriously wrong with it and we have to do some more
screaming crying haggling, WE GOT THE HOUSE.
Ten months, y’all. Ten months we’ve been looking for a house, driving all over hell’s half-acre to see houses, bidding on houses, agonizing over houses, eating, breathing, dreaming houses, and we finally got one.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, until I exhaled.
Sadly, this is not the end of the problems. The contract shows a closing date only ten days before our show in Missouri, which Will Not Work. Our realtor & mortgage guy are pulling all the strings they can to change that date. Fingers still firmly crossed.