Thursday, March 30 2000
Our torture by the process of real esate loan exceeded all precedent today even as we were loading up the UHaul. The loan broker was desperately trying to get me to demonstrate that I had been working continuously as a web developer ever since June 1996, when I got my first real job, a $6/hr gig at the now-defunct Comet.net in Charlottesville, Virginia. The main snag with this version of events was the nine months I was unemployed in 1998. So the loan broker was trying to get me to have my Dad vouch that I was working for Virginians for Wilderness at a good salary during this time. Everything was going fine, and myever-reluctant Dad was even playing along until he was asked to sign papers. That's when he phoned me and gave me the lecture about going in over my head and not behaving "like a Mueller." This was especially painful for me because it's precisely what I've been telling myself and gnashing my teeth about for the past several weeks.
But by the end of the day the loan agent had found a way around the matter, and Kim and I had the UHaul almost entirely loaded. I was exhausted both from the physical effort expended and Kim's constant harping, and all I wanted to do was play with my computer, the only thing left in my formerly cluttered computer room.
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