Maine did not care that I had already signed everything.
The seller documents for my Portland condo arrived in the morning. The closing was the next day. I signed them through an online notary, emailed the copies back, and asked the settlement company to confirm that the digital versions would work.
They would not.
The original deed had to be recorded. The buyer's lender also needed original signed copies of the closing disclosure and settlement statement. I printed the package and said I would send it. Then another prepaid FedEx label arrived for the deed, followed by another round with a physical notary.
I had to move an Apply call at the last minute. My explanation was pretty direct: I was closing on a home out of state and had to run out to get another document physically notarized. It could not be avoided.
Apply was having a full workday anyway. We were working through customer interviews, operating metrics, partner design specifications, and a software engineering job description. The day before, I had also put a recurring Thursday block on the calendar with Rapchat so we could start working through the company and technology plans.
None of that made the deed electronic.
At 2:55 that afternoon I sent the update: “Wet signed and notarized deed also in mail.”
The condo had been my first apartment in Portland. Selling it should have been a clean ending. Instead, the closing mostly felt like paper, FedEx labels, and trying not to drop the rest of the workday.
There was still another house to sell. Poughkeepsie was moving toward contract, but the certificate of occupancy work made a quick closing unlikely. I was already tired of managing multiple properties and had no interest in taking on another project house.
A few days later I asked to extend the lease on the house in Cold Spring. We really liked it there. I had joined the trails committee and the local climate group, and my friend and housemate had taken a job in Beacon. This was starting to look like more than a COVID move.
I told the landlord I wanted to move from “temporary” to “permanent.” The Portland deed was already in the mail.