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Today I attempted to become the first person in history (I assume) to break into a locked car with a stick. It didn't work.
Upon parking in the UAF parking lot (heading up to use the university computer labs to check my email) I tossed my keys into the passenger seat, thinking to myself, "Better not forget to pick those up before locking the door." Then I rummaged around in the backseat, got out and locked the door.
D'oh!
It would have been very cool if I had actually managed to fish up my keys through the half-inch window gap on the passenger's side with nothing more than a cottonwood branch; unfortunately, after spending 15 minutes at it, I gave up and went over to ask a young guy fixing his mountain bike if he had a piece of wire I could use to retrieve my keys. He goes, "Sure!" and hands me a coathanger, which worked like a charm.
I like living in a state where you can ask a random stranger for a piece of wire to help you break into a car and they give you one, no questions asked.
I'm still in mortgage hell, however. The latest hangup is that we've been dropped by our bank and had to switch to another mortgage lender, at 4:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon. The reason why they dropped us? Because there are no similar pieces of property in the neighborhood. Real estate appraisals are based, largely, on the assessed value of other, similar houses in the area; they're called "comps" (comparisons, I guess). Because of our huge 10-acre piece of land, there are no comps for our house, so the bank doesn't trust the appraisal and they don't want to lend us money.
What. The. Fuck.
Our real estate agent recommended another mortgage place that is a trifle more flexible, and they've been very good at working with me. However, this means that the closing will be delayed at least another week to two weeks, because we have to transfer over all our paperwork.
At least I have insurance now; I found an insurance company who is willing to write a policy in spite of the looming wildfires. One hurdle down.
Upon parking in the UAF parking lot (heading up to use the university computer labs to check my email) I tossed my keys into the passenger seat, thinking to myself, "Better not forget to pick those up before locking the door." Then I rummaged around in the backseat, got out and locked the door.
D'oh!
It would have been very cool if I had actually managed to fish up my keys through the half-inch window gap on the passenger's side with nothing more than a cottonwood branch; unfortunately, after spending 15 minutes at it, I gave up and went over to ask a young guy fixing his mountain bike if he had a piece of wire I could use to retrieve my keys. He goes, "Sure!" and hands me a coathanger, which worked like a charm.
I like living in a state where you can ask a random stranger for a piece of wire to help you break into a car and they give you one, no questions asked.
I'm still in mortgage hell, however. The latest hangup is that we've been dropped by our bank and had to switch to another mortgage lender, at 4:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon. The reason why they dropped us? Because there are no similar pieces of property in the neighborhood. Real estate appraisals are based, largely, on the assessed value of other, similar houses in the area; they're called "comps" (comparisons, I guess). Because of our huge 10-acre piece of land, there are no comps for our house, so the bank doesn't trust the appraisal and they don't want to lend us money.
What. The. Fuck.
Our real estate agent recommended another mortgage place that is a trifle more flexible, and they've been very good at working with me. However, this means that the closing will be delayed at least another week to two weeks, because we have to transfer over all our paperwork.
At least I have insurance now; I found an insurance company who is willing to write a policy in spite of the looming wildfires. One hurdle down.