So yeah, this post has nothing to do with food except that - once again - I turn to it in order to sort of calm myself down because I'm screaming across the room like a cat with a dangly toy strapped to its neck.
We're in escrow for a home right now. At least we are on the date that I write this. We still have yet to undergo appraisals and inspections of all kinds so by the time this goes up in two weeks (yes, I write posts that far in advance so I have enough time to proof and edit... in theory) we may not be in escrow due to actually getting a set of keys, or because the inspector finds something like severe roof damage or the bodies of numerous missing hitchhikers dating back to the early nineties and therefore the place is not given the go-ahead by the loan people.
And yes, this is actually reason to not be granted the loan. I asked. Because I ask these sorts of things.
So let me tell you the epic tale of dealing with a HUD home (a home owned by the government) and how shit is perpetually flying fan-ward. Actually, not flying, but perhaps nervously humming around like a kamikaze shit-helicopter waiting to obliterate itself upon the blades and explode its stinky bits just oh-my-god everywhere.