But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln

Ok, so back in March, my bank approached ME with an opportunity to refinance my existing 15 year mortgage at a much lower rate.  This was to be an "easy" 3 step no cost refinancing that did not involve tax returns, appraisals, points, etc.  It would drop our monthly mortgage payment by about $300.00.  American dollars.

Great, said I.  Let's do this "easy" refinancing.  Easy peasy, right?

WRONG!!!!!

This had turned into a nightmare of epic proportions although not as epic a nightmare as BP's fucked-up handling of the Gulf oil spill but still it's been pretty bad.

I'm not going to go into the exact details but it involves the title to my property, my living trust, an escrow company that took my paperwork and disappeared, a mortgage consultant who would assure me that everything was on track going smoothly and then would become MIA for several weeks, not answering e-mails or phone calls and then would reappear with an entirely different offer than had been agreed upon, then being denied because that offer was now only for "special" customers, then being re-approved because I raised holy hell and this morning I find out that my easy peasy refinancing would be for the same interest rate I am paying now which means Stagecoach Bank's (not the real name but that's the logo...you figure it out) offer is completely worthless and I have wasted MONTHS trying to get this taken care of and coupled with some major screw ups with my business accounts and my kids accounts on the part of the bank, I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand of a banking institution.


So this morning, I wake up and look in the mirror and see that either I'm suffering from a rather severe case of adult acne on my cheek and upper brow areas or something has been snacking on me in the middle of the night.  Add some swell PMS symptoms including breasticles that haven't ached this bad since I was nursing a hungry baby 18 years ago.  Seriously, every time I hear a baby cry, I look down expecting to see two wet spots spreading on my shirt, that's how sore and achy the F Troops are.  Oh, I'm a real prize these days, let me tell you.  How TheManTheMyth is able to keep his hands off me is a wonder, I'm that much of a beauty.


Last week, we actually had several days of heat, here in my neck of the coastal woods.  And we had humidity added to it.  It was bad enough that I caved in and turned on the A/C.  Air conditioning is a wonderful thing, I say to you.  Even though we probably only turn it on maybe a total of 2 weeks a year but it's nice having it when we need it.


The weather turned back to June Gloom conditions and who is not complaining one iota?  That'd be me.  Right now at 12:15PM, PST, we are socked in with a heavy marine layer and I'm just fine with that.  It was even drizzling pretty good when I took Miss Gracie Lou for her morning walk.  Seriously, you just can't beat the climate of Coastal Southern California.


The racing season is on its summer break which means TheManTheMyth will be home on weekends which means he'll be bored which means he'll want to build something, demolish something or a combination of both which means I'll need to insist he make his annual pilgrimage to Mecca (riding at Kennedy Meadows in the Sierras) despite his insisting there's no money for it.  I'd sell a body part if it meant him going to his Happy Place.  He NEEDS this which means *I* need this for both our sanities.  Especially after our banking/refinancing nightmare which is making my blood pressure rise just thinking about it all over again.


But other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?