The plan, as outlined by realtor Dwayne over a week ago, is that he’s to present offers — well at least one — tonight. It’s D-Day.
I go up, go down. Dwight called this morning and we were talking fine and then suddenly, bam: I lost my speech completely.
Someone’s called for a viewing at 3:30 today. I’m getting a good feeling from that — plus the fact that so far, Dwayne hasn’t cancelled our date for tonight. And … I got an email from him this morning about a home inspection of the cabin. He’s proposing we be there Wednesday morning while it happens and he’s lined up an inspector.
But surely he knows I won’t want to pay for the inspection of a place I don’t get so he must think we’re going to get an offer. God I hope so.
Sunday was gray. Attendance at the open was modest. I went to see The Viceroy’s House about the partition of India while it was on; it was a pretty crappy movie.
Late Sunday afternoon while the rains fed our poor parched gardens and lawns I kept thinking of a fire in a log cabin. In the evening I tired to watch the Emmy Awards. What a mess of self-absorption that was.
My hands and arms have been working normally and I’ve not had any episodes of staccato breathing in the two weeks since I decided to list my house and move. Interesting, eh?
Now I’m off to lunch with Cathy and then for a wander while the viewing happens.