Since the planning board meeting I have focused most of my time on financing the project.  I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to say out loud in a blog just how much I’m trying to borrow.. so since I feel weird about it I won’t.  Let’s just say it’s a giant amount.  So from now on we’ll refer to the loan as $GA or giant amount.

The process has been pretty freaking exhausting oh and long oh and did I mention tedious?  But smooth.. relatively smooth.  Loan Application Instructions (this is my super short version btw):  Step One: photo copy the last 3 years of life. Step Two: create projections for the next three years of life month by month.  Step Three: Tell bank how many people will drive by and stop by K9 Kaos. Step Four: (question from bank) “How the eff are you ever going to pay back this $GA?” Step Five: (answer from me) “I was thinking of selling one of my kidneys.”  To which I did get one short chuckle!

I got a call on Wednesday from my wonderful banker asking me to get down there that minute to meet the President of the bank.  Okay. Sure.  Most of you reading this know that I am not ready, I’m working from home in my jams on my couch.  I have 30 minutes to get to Portsmouth.  No problem.  While I am running around like a lunatic trying to get ready to meet…ehemmm… the President of bank I start to get a little nervous and I remember a thought about me and a bank that hadn’t crossed my mind for a very long time.  I thought it might be funny so now you guys have suffer through this story.

When I was 18 I bought my first car, a Camaro.  (a few of you are chuckling right now; as we had shall we say, some memorable times in said Camaro) Well, I had a checking account at the Arlington Trust Bank on Essex Street in Lawrence MA and I now need to pay my first car payment.  For some reason the bank had put a hold on my paycheck that I had deposited a few days earlier which was making it impossible for me to make my car payment of $167.00.  Well, I had a hissy fit and demanded to see the person in charge.  I can remember being marched over to a desk and behind this desk was a guy in suit.  In my mind this guy had to be like the owner of the bank and I let him have it (poor bastard).  I can remember that he never looked at me, I’m pretty sure he never even spoke to me but he signed the paper that I had in my hand releasing my money.  I told him that I would never be back to the Arlington Trust Bank and I marched my 18 year old self out of that bank forever with my $167.00.

Well, I think my meeting on Wednesday went much better than that!  Perhaps I will soon be marching my xx year old self out this bank with a $GA. 🙂

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