Well dern. After like, 6 days, the house is SOLD. Boom, just like that. I mean, I knew it was a good house. Its been food for the soul to hubs and I. We’ve hosted MANY a party, a precious baby shower, a 40th birthday for a dear dear friend, an anniversary party, LOST viewing parties, and countless impromptu dinners- it’s a sweet little home full of love. The new people will love it just as much (maybe….) He’s a historian at a major university in Atlanta, and she is an analyst for a power company. My wonderful agent is planning a cocktail party for us after all that needs to be done is done. I’s dotted and T’s crossed on the legal line and all that……the fat lady must sing…in this case- our fat lady is the closing attorney. I want to be able to tell them about the garter snakes in the yard, and the possum momma and baby that walk the fence like a tightrope, the birds that bathe in the fountain, the way you can lift the new window screens and water the window boxes from inside (yes, you are welcome…) about Trixie, one of the many neighborhood mousers that likes to lay on the back deck on the red cushion, how the mail always comes by 10am sharp, that you have to stay on top of Richard to get the bushes trimmed the right way…..but alas. It won’t be my house anymore. Or maybe it always will be- always will have this tiny piece of me in it- It’s almost 100 years old- there are a a lot of us here- the past ghosts of the inhabitants who have been lucky enough to call it home. We, are under contract.