Yesterday, my mortgage was finally preapproved. And what it took to get there this week: on Monday, the loan officer at Wells Fargo left me a message indicating the underwriter wanted me to provide letters from two utilities proving that I paid my bills on time. There was some issue about not being able to correlate my credit record with the utility record, whatever that meant. (Don’t we have databases and computers for this sort of thing?) Yesterday morning I returned her call and flat out refused. I told her I was willing to deliver an entire year’s worth of assorted utility bills but that was all I would do since it was going to be more pointless delay tracking down someone at Cingular and convincing them to do me a special favour; oh and by the way, isn’t this your job, not mine? She must have detected I was nearing the limits of my patience, and by the afternoon, after receiving my twenty faxed pages of utility bills, I was told the good news. So now truly begins the house hunt.
Yesterday I also managed to destroy all the data on our database server. I swear all I was trying to do was install a printer driver on the stupid machine (which was running NT 4.0, by the way), but it locked up during the process, and then after the first reboot it refused to let me in past the login screen without complaining about corrupt data on the hard drive. After the next reboot: “No operating system found”. Even the partition table was utterly gone. Thank god for backups. I’ve managed to also kill two SGI monitors since moving here, both times just by turning the damn things on. Susan: “Were you magnetized as a child?” Hmph.
The Shostakovich cello sonata is pretty cool, discovery made courtesy of a City Music performance I attended on Saturday with Per and My. My used to play chamber music, I must convince her she needs to pick it up again, then find a cellist (me). Everything is coming up Milhouse, trail of broken computers notwithstanding.
