An electronic world...

I find it odd that, legally, you cannot get a mortgage without having original documents and signatures, but when you pay off a mortgage, suddenly everything is only electronic and document copies.  I have absolutely no legally binding proof, yet, that my mortgage has been paid and the lien has been released.  And talking with anyone at Wells Fargo is enough to send one to the loony bin ... or jail for egregious retaliatory behavior.  I do have the escrow check.  But an escrow check is not even a final statement with big, fat zeros the the balance box.  Seriously, I cannot even get a final statement for the mortgage because a statement cannot be generated without a payment coupon ... and there is no payment to be made.

I want my ducks in a row.  I want, when Becky tends to my estate, to have a nice collection of legal documents for all that she needs.  And I want something that will stand up in a court of law should there be any confusion when she goes to sell the house.  You know ... there are so very many news reports of homeowners finding their fully-owned home mortgaged off or foreclosed on by a bank with which they never had any business.

Funny.  Becky was just here and some of the ducks she needs are still residing in the deacon's bench.  She really should have the originals of the paperwork that gives her the right to direct my life in all areas.  Although I have told folk in my life here that that is where to look.  No filing cabinet searching.  Just one of my beloved binders filled with my beloved top-loading sheet protectors.  [I still have many of those on hand should anyone need some.]

Today, I went trolling for something ... anything ... to organize.  I decided to do the filing in the tray atop my filing cabinet.  Some of the stuff in there was warranty information that I have been avoiding putting into my warranty binder, being so bloody exhausted all the time.  However, I decided to go through both filing cabinet drawers, looking for old documents, and to empty the entire tray.  Mission accomplished.  I even went through the non-house warranty binder and culled out the instruction manuals and warranty information for things that I sold, such as the shop vac.  I ended up with an entire shopping bag full of papers to recycle.  And some old brochures on multiple sclerosis that my neurologist in Ohio gave me along with the diagnosis letter.  A sad sort of missive that.

The set of documents I still have, although am thinking of pitching, are all my employment contracts.  I cannot see a reason for keeping them, especially since I no longer have a need of proving my salary.  With them are all the publisher contracts I have, from back in the dark ages when I actually sold writing.  Those, I think, would be good to keep.  But ... perhaps not.  One set guarantees me payment for use of my writing in other forms.  I have found it here and there, but to actually try to enforce the contract would cost more with a lawyer than would most likely net me.  I suppose it is really pride that makes me want to keep them ... and shame that makes me want to ditch the former.  Shame that I am no longer a contributing member of society.  Shame that I failed to achieve any of my dreams, really, save for a Ph.D. that means little, if anything.

I also have every commendation and letter of thanks/praise I have ever received related to work.  Seriously, I have the commendations I received from Sanger Harris when I was but a teenager working in the Juniors Department so that I could buy and maintain a car.  And I have all my graduate papers, my dissertation work, and a collection of school work dating from Kindergarten.  Silly Myrtle.  I have no children (and thus no grand children) who ever care to dig through my past.  All of that really could go ... or at least serve as kindling for one of my beloved fires.

When I was working on letters last, I got up in the middle of the night and finished off the ones lingering.  The next day, all thirteen personal missives went out the door.  Tonight, I worked on five more.  And I procrastinated, yet again, on writing the 2nd appeal letter for the tier exception, the letter to my last job with the notice from Blue Cross about the insurance premium refund for 2011 that was sent to work and not to me (yep, my old job did not bother to send the refund back to me), and a letter to someone who owes me money, has owed me money for a long, long time now.  Asking for things, even for things due me, is so very difficult.  I utterly fail in that department.

So, I called Wells Fargo, yet again. This time, I got a supervisor who did not tell me to call back in a few weeks, but who said that they have no paperwork that I can have regarding the payoff of the mortgage.  No final statement.  No promissory note marked canceled.  No release of lien request or documentation.  I think I am going to have to figure out where the county recorder's office is, go down there, and pay to get copies of documents that, technically, I paid for when I paid off my mortgage.  If I am understanding the county website correctly, I can pay for a copy of the release of mortgage that was returned to Wells Fargo.

Then, I did it.
I wrote my three darned letters.

Now, I'm off to take a jar of Dr Pepper Pulled Pork out of the freezer for tomorrow and a jar of Chipotle Chicken Chili for Thursday.  After all, I've got lots of loin girding to do for Friday's appointment.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!