As grace would have it, there was another townhouse on the market across the street from Not Happening House Deal, so we crossed the street. This townhouse is a bit smaller but has a real cook's kitchen with a 5-burner gas stove, upgraded bathrooms, and a new deck.
We put in an offer that was accepted, the inspection showed lots of nothing wrong, another quarter point got shaved off our already disgustingly low mortgage rate, and the appraisal went through without any trauma-drama. Net result: we're scheduled to close on August 27. I've got painters lined up to knock out the bedrooms and my future office on August 28 and 29. We move on August 30.
Good thing this deal is going through, because our apartments are already rented out.
Of course I've started packing. Heck, I'm almost finished with the packing because that's . . . me. Having a slight case of (properly medicated) OCD comes in mighty handy at times like this.
The grad students down the hall are grateful recipients of furniture I cannot stomach moving yet again. We've plugged in a pheromone diffuser to chillax the cat. I'm trying to get real about what I can commit to getting done during the next four weeks. Might go on hiatus on this blog. Or not.
