That whistle you hear down the line is the express train barreling into my future.
My realtor called me yesterday afternoon to ask if I was interested in closing the sale on my house earlier than the scheduled date in late March. Apparently, the bank has completed its loan approval and the buyers, by reading this blog, were aware I was in town -- and anxious to close the sale.
Even though I had started filling in my calendar for farewell lunches and dinners, I told her I was willing to close as soon as the escrow agent is ready. So, I may be moving the last few things out o the house near the beginning of March -- instead of the end.
The tough stuff is done. But there is still quite a bit of furniture to move out of the house.
The bookcase my Uncle Frank made for me as a high school graduation present is going to my niece -- who can put it to good use in her senior year of college. My art collection will go on a loan tour with my nephew.
And a few items are heading to Bend. My bed -- the most comfortable I have owned -- is going to my mother. Along with several boxes of hard-bound books. My tools are for my brother.
The remainder -- this is beginning to sound like my last will and testament -- are headed to Goodwill. With a few pieces f furniture to my house sitter. For his future apartment.
On my last day in the house, the Oregon Energy Trust will pick up my refrigerator and freezer -- and leave me with $80. I suspect all of that is to somehow enhance the environment.
Because it looks as if this sale is now inevitable, I started the process of changing my address on my internet accounts. The tougher issue will be closing out my local bank accounts. I need to be certain all of my bills have cleared. No sense in ruining my credit rating with ill-advised premature withdrawals.
If all goes well, I could be riding a train out of town before I even realize March is here.
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