Today I signed all my loan documents. Oddly enough, it was the first time I met face to face with my mortgage broker. She has one of those cute little names that sounds like it ends with a Y, but really ends with an I. And she really lives up to the stereotype: blonde hair, overly manicured nails, and lip liner (PS: The lip liner thing ain’t workin’. Give it up.)
So we sat down at the table to do some serious business, and suddenly the air wasn’t as pure as I remembered it. It smelled a little sweeter, a little thicker. What exactly was I smelling? It wasn’t expensive perfume. It was. . . vanilla. Vanilla? Is that an appropriate scent to wear to a document signing? I mean, there she was talking about annual percentage rates and all I could think about was heating her up in the microwave and dipping her in my coffee. [rim-shot] Thank you. I’ll be here all week.
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