How "the husband" saved the day

"The husband" is my hero.
He's totally absent minded and sometimes he concentrates on his job so much that he doesn't even listen what I say for days at the time. But from time to time he shows sparks of pure genius as he did yesterday.

We had to go to downtown Barcelona to sign all the papers for the flat, and, most importantly, for the mortgage. It was a very formal situation, the people from the estate agency were there, Monica (the lady who's doing all the mortgage negotiation and paper work) was there, the vendors of the flat were there. We all had to take at least the evening out of our jobs to be there and, of course, buying a house is the biggest financial transaction that normal people like us do, so it was all a very emotionally charged atmosphere. To top that up, in Spain 80% of real estate transactions are sign the last day of the month so, the whole building was packed with suited men, power-suited high-heeled women and tense looking people, all buzzing around a big, imposing, modernist looking bank.

We've told to bring our IDs, in my case the passport and proof that I'm resident in Spain, and nothing else because Monica already had copies of every little piece of paper that you can think of in a huge folder. However, before we left the flat to go to Barcelona, "the husband" hesitated before taking the lift and went back into our flat to pick a big folder where we keep all the documents that we've collecting since we sold the house in Bristol and move here. That's a big folder that my very scientifically minded husband did put together to organise everything.

I though that he was a bit anal retentive but didn't say anything and prayed that he was not to leave the folder on the train or wherever!

Later on, when we arrive into the bank, Monica came to greet us with a slightly deluded look in her eyes and she told us that due to the fact that we're UK citizens the bank people and, in particular, the notary who was there to make sure everything was ok, wanted to see all the original papers before the signing. Apparently that was quite unusual but the bank has the right to ask for it anyway.

I went into my zen mode. Meaning that I just froze there like the proverbial deer under the car lights.

And totally unexpectedly, "the husband" produced his folder and took out every single piece of the original documents. Monica, the estate agent and, to be honest, me too were totally, truly amazed. Then and there he was my hero.

So, the notary confirmed that all the copies were indeed true copies and we all went into a room-office where we sat around a big polished table. There, the notary read aloud all the documents and asked us all to confirm that in fact we were who we claimed we were and we all signed everything.
All a very formal and intimidating situation, I must say; only comparable as getting married in a UK registry. I feel as if I'm wedded to the mortgage now!! Very strange.