About 18 months ago, after we’d handed over the down payment for our condo, we spoke to two banks who offered capped mortgage rates for our building. The first bank we dealt with — who I won’t name here — was a pain in the ass. They wouldn’t deal with me over email, and the manager I spoke to on the phone wouldn’t discuss anything unless I came to his branch. It was pretty out of the way, and I wasn’t about to waste an entire day getting there. I didn’t bother contacting my own bank since they couldn’t provide a rate cap on my building.

So I emailed the rep from Scotia and got a prompt response. We arranged everything over email, including the submission of my relevant documents, and I simply had to visit a branch — the one nearest me, not her branch — to sign the paperwork. As I said, that was a year and a half ago.

Today her assistant called me and told me that they were extending the length of the capped rate (it was due to expire this fall) and that they’d dropped the rate by another 0.5%. This brought it to 1.6% off their posted rate, and it’s still guaranteed for another 17 months. I’m not even technically their customer yet, and they’ve already impressed me.

Full disclosure: I work for a bank. It ain’t Scotia.

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The chocolate that T-Bone keeps in her desk is about the only thing keeping me from going into a coma right now.

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I had high hopes for the new Angels Of Light / Akron/Family disc, but it’s not that good. I’ll probably keep a couple of songs around, but ditch the rest. I’m starting to like The Brave And The Bold, the albums of covers by Bonnie Prince Billy & Tortoise. Who’d have thunk that I’d dig a version of Elton John‘s “Daniel”?

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Remember how I said last night that I had no injuries? I meant besides the contusion from where I fouled Mike in full flight and his knee plowed into the back of my calf. Owie.

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Stupid Carolina Hurricanes.

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Dear maritimes: bonne chance. Dig in and stay dry.