It started over a year ago.
After years of arguing with Mark, wooing him with summers in Chicago, and out
and out bribery (I promised him a gourmet kitchen), we are finally... well
almost finally, moving into the Chicago home I have dreamed of. Last year we
were teased with a contract on our Florida home only to have it ripped away
like a kid dropping a one dollar bill tied to a string in front of a homeless
man. Then after a few thousand people tramped through our house led by our
hapless real estate agent, we got another contract. This time it was Columbians
who saw something in our place and made an offer. Unfortunately, after two
months of waiting for the closing we were informed that the Columbians needed
another month to "Bring the cash into the country in small
amounts." I'm not sure if they
rolled it up into ten thousand dollar wads and shoved it up their asses, but I
was over it. So I cancelled the contract. That turned out to be a good move.
Our new real estate agent, a good friend and neighbor, sold our house in four
days for forty thousand dollars more than the Columbians were willing to pay.
Now I am in the process of closing this Friday. I have emailed, faxed, mailed,
overnighted, signed, and opened myself up to the bank for the last month and a
half. The final moment is approaching fast, the light at the end of the tunnel
is within sight. I am giddy with excitement. In anticipation of the hundreds of
pages I will have to sign on Friday, I have exercised my right hand, and got
into shape so that it won't cramp up halfway through the closing. Yes, I am
ready. Just don't ask how I exercised that right hand.
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