Hello! How was your weekend? Mine was just splendid. It’s not like I wanted to go OUTSIDE or DO ANYTHING this weekend, so it was dandy just the way it was. I truly ENJOYED being trapped inside on the one freakishly warm weekend of the season. With no chocolate. Or alcohol.
Given that my weekend ended up being completely unremarkable due to house arrest, I have nothing at all to talk about except that 1) you people have some very strong opinions about pants or 2) something unexpected and really good may or may not happen soon.
I am tired of discussing my ass so I figure, what the hell. Let’s go straight for number 2 and jinx this thing right.
[The unexciting explanation of our boring weekend: Chickadee is suffering from that amorphous childhood malady wherein there is a fever and no other symptoms. This means that she may be able to sit at the computer and play for a while, or sit on the couch and watch some television and appear to be fine, but then out of nowhere she’s pale and shivering and pitiful again. So, we stayed put. She whined, Monkey bounced off the walls, and I found myself taking out the trash just to get a breath of fresh air.]
So. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that I’m going to be moving soon…? (Hahahaha! I’m so funny when I pretend I’m subtle.) And I’m currently in that delightful flurry of activity that results from realizing that although YOU don’t mind having peeling wallpaper or, say, a huge hole in the ceiling (you think I’m exaggerating with that one, and I WISH I WAS), prospective homebuyers might not see the charm in these little details.
The madness commenced, and I ticked items off of the list of “suggestions” from the realtor as we went along. Even now, paint cans still line my hallways and drawer pulls sit on my bathroom counter. The idea is to get the house on the market in March. March seemed really far away, when we started talking about this, but it really isn’t. That bitch February is always shorter than you think. It’s coming up. But things are moving right along.
Well, last week I got a very interesting phone call. By telling you about it I am now ensuring that this possible ideal solution will never come to pass. I hope you’re happy.
It seems that a family who used to live in our neighborhood and moved away have decided they’d like to return. I had mentioned to a neighbor to feel free to put the word out that I’ll be selling (tell your friends! especially if they have money!), and put it out there she did. This family “heard” about it and they want to come see the house as soon as possible.
Also, they don’t want to close/move until after school’s over in June. Although they’d love to have an agreement in place much earlier.
I know. They’d be, like, made-to-order buyers, and as I’m not yet signed with the realtor we could do it as a FSBO and save some money. (And before anyone decides to yell at me, I fully plan to let the realtor I’ve been talking to know what’s going on, whether it be a delay in signing or a decision that we won’t need him.) But MOST IMPORTANTLY this might mean circumventing that entire awful period where you have to keep the house clean and make the beds and let people come poke around whenever they want to.
Because of the utter perfection that would be these people deciding to buy the house, I’m sure they’ll decide they don’t want it. Or—better yet!—they’ll decide they want it, and then die in a freak accident the day after we sign a purchase and sale agreement. I mean, I just can’t see it going any other way. (And honestly, they seem really nice, so I’m rooting for the former option. It seems unfair for someone to have to die just because they came into contact with me.)
Now I can consider the possibility officially jinxed and move on with my life. Ahhhhh.