Holy shit, I'm a homeowner. And my own housewife.
Everything went well - thanks for all the good wishes. And, the seller paid for my interest rate lock extension! So that was great. I'm trying NOT to have the mindset that oh, that means I can spend that money. Thankfully at my bank I have two savings accounts, and I'm starting to use the secondary one for money that I'll allow myself to use for fun stuff like vacations, and buying new ski boots this fall.
It's all about the food. The office I closed at had tons of food and drink, and so it's my favorite place to close now. My lunch consisted of a packet of doritos, two packets of freeze-dried fruit, a glass of apple juice, and two candy bars (I had earlier eaten a package of peanut butter and crackers). The woman who handled my financing brought me a bottle of champagne. After the closing my realtor and I brought a case of beer to the seller's agent, since he really did so much for us.
The seller's agent looked at my keys and said, now you can get into any foreclosed house. They use the same keys for all of them. So I know what I'm doing soon! New locks.
And, the title of the post refers back to a song: I'm my own grandpa. And here we have the muppets to sing it for you: