The latest drama is: I got an email from the loan people, saying that all our application bits and pieces are fine, and based on that info we should be fine to get the monies for the house...
They need a form from the sheriff (ha ha, sheriff!) confirming that we made an offer that has been accepted. This is necessary for home loans here in Iceland, instead of getting pre-approved, you make an offer on a house, and then once it's accepted you can apply for the loan.
Because we bought it at auction, though, we needed to pay a quarter of the total cost as a deposit, and we need to come up with the next quarter before the handover date. At that point, we'll get the paperwork from the sheriff that will allow us to get the loan.
So to summarize, to get the loan, we need the paperwork. To get the paperwork, we need to pay the sheriff the money from the loan.
Oh well, we are in the midst of finding solutions right now, and I'm not convinced that it'll have any affect on when we move in - if Ingó gets out by next Sunday, we'll be in there five minutes later!
And since I've got a title that already fits:
C is for...
Cats - because we all know I am one of those people who is at high risk of becoming a crazy old cat lady. I absolutely adored my cat John Malkovich - he was one of the kittens that Dad brought home from work, and he somehow became my cat, as opposed to ours. Can't wait til I can get another kitty of my own, but not sure if it'll be anytime soon. I'll just have to settle for Snotra for now...
Creative outlets - music, writing, knitting, drawing, taking photos - I have decided talent matters little (yay!), it's all about just doing stuff for fun and stress release and interestingness... And I like the sense of achievement you get when you make something. I think that's one of the things I'm most looking forward to about our house - building things, painting, and just making a place that reflects who we are.
Crows - my brain is a bit blank at the moment, but I've been meaning to mention it anyway: there are a tonne of crows here in Sauðárkrókur. And I love them. You see them everywhere, perched on top of the gates at the graveyard, on the steeple of the church, and flying around in big, creepy, creaky flocks.
Lots of people I've talked to here seem to like them, too. I feel like they usually represent ominousness and doom, but they are almost respected here, from what I've seen.
Amma told me a folk story about a girl who used to feed the crows near her farmhouse, and then one day one of them stole her glove and hopped away. So she followed it, it hopped away some more, and so on, until they were quite far away from the farm. And then the farm was swallowed up by an avalanche.
So the moral of the story is, be nice to crows and they'll save you from a snowy death?