So I’d pulled into the right lane for to be making my exit when the UPS truck in front of me (but still in my old lane) started to move into my lane. He did signal, but I think I must’ve changed lanes in between when he checked and when he put on his signal and started his move. So I mashed my brakes (“mashed”, BTW, is a word that apparently is only used in the South to mean “to press” in a verb-like sense), slowed down and flashed my headlights to say “go ahead, it’s cool, you can come on over now.” He did. End of Story in my head.

Well two lights later (at the corner of Davis & 54 for anyone local) he in the next lane was beside me… I wasn’t paying him any attention, but then I got the weird “something’s going on right outside of my field of vision feeling” and I looked over at him. The sweet guy was waving, smiling and mouthing “I’m sorry”. Awwwwwwww!

I’m supposed to be cleaming my house, so my housekeeper can come clean my house tomorrow (go figure that one!), but I’ve been massively unmotivated, wanting instead to paw through the 20 (!) rolls of film I just got back from my trip to Europe and/or mess with LiveJournal more. I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon (but not before I manage to get the spellchecker on the desktop client working (Semagic, if anyone knows??).)

Ah, the nested parentheses debate. Is it (when one is writing in regular old English (as opposed to, say, Fortran)) appropriate to nest parenthesis thusly (thereby denoting some subsequent [but no less important, naturally] thought) or maybe like (if one was to be really proper about it (tho one could argue that parentheses are, by their very nature, informal)) that.

Thoughts?

Take two. Well, I’ve just finished my refinance on my mortgage (I think. I keep expecting something *else* to go wrong.) As you may be sensing, this was NOT a smooth process. I’ve driven to Raleigh five times, twice for closings (this is one too many by my count) and three times to meet with the mortgage people. (Should I name names? I really would hate to see anyone else go through what I’ve been through… ). The short (and relatively painless to recount) version is that at first the dork mortgage agent sold me a mortgage that didn’t exist. Yep. Told me terms that just flat-out were made up, as near as I can tell.

This was Bad. So, three weeks later when I get to closing and the papers didn’t say anything like what we’d talked about… well, I pitched a fit. And got the jerk mortgage agent’s boss involved. Of course, by this time the rates had gone back up. Oh joy.

In the end, they ended up buying down a point (out of their pocket) and knocking off a few hundred in fees. And I did get the low rate on the 7/1 ARM. I *would’ve liked* to get the low rate on the 30-yr. fixed but it was too late for that. Sigh. I’d like to think I won’t be in this house (as much as I love it) in seven years.

This was veryvery frustrating. I am glad it’s over. I had a McFlurry as a treat after.