It is finished.
The house sale, that is. Even with the shot of adrenalin at the start of this week when the bank financing seemed to fall apart, this has to have been one of the simplest home sales I have been involved in. Either professionally or personally.
It certainly helped that my house and the buyers were a natural match -- even before the "for sale" sign went up. It was the classic tale of how the free market should work. Willing seller. Willing buyer. Libertarian smiles all around.
On Thursday afternoon, I walked over to the escrow office. With only a two-minute wait, I was whisked into a conference room. Signed here. Initialed there. Notarized. Sealed. Done.
By tomorrow morning, my fixed asset in Salem will be a liquid asset in Los Angeles.
The last time I sold property -- back in the Punic Wars or perhaps the early 1990s -- I walked away with the carcasses of several dead trees. Papers I dumped in a file and never saw again until I dug them out for this sale.
Today I walked away with a small plastic disc. A compact disc of Steve's greatest hits of March 2013.
And I feel as joyful as if I had just been awarded my first platinum record.
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