(I wish blogger would finally get on the stick and allow safari users to do rich text--"house" should be in blue)
So the first buyer ran away. Left at the alter. Piecing together information gathered from our realtor and the inspector, she may have had her father (the "handyman" of the family) convince her that the house was shoddy or too risky. He, apparently, is the guy who mucked up our shower. The very nice inspector came by and fixed it the next day--v. apologetic for it happening.
But our superagent realtor placed rapid phone calls in sequential and perhaps even simultaneous order and came up with an identical offer from one of the interested parties that lost out the first time around. They came by for a quick 3rd (4th?) look and then faxed over a contract with a higher offer. I think they were afraid we'd put it back on the market and get an even higher price.
So now we are awaiting a visit from their inspector. We are acting on the assumption that the house is sold. We've moved on to arranging for movers and dates. We have a very complicated matrix in which Judy and Ciela travel to a number of undisclosed locations while I somehow manage to move a house of furniture and two cars across the plains, mountains and desert to Scottsdale.
Presumably, in the near future, Judy, Ciela and I will drive to San Diego--a short 5 hour trip from Phoenix, I believe. When that happens, I will have driven across the entire United States of America: coast to coast.