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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Frost on the lawns this morning. It's time to break out the sweaters and the Brazilian records.

Best news of all is I sold Galusha. Yes! To a coupla artist-types of my tribe, no less. Each time they came back they spent an additional hour, until I had an offer to sign.

Now pressure of selling has been replaced with pressure of finishing!

I'm so starved for concrete that I feel like flagging down any cement truck I see: Over here! We'll need five more of your friends, too.

The real estate market was meant to have cooled recently, but I think I also have enough interest in Construction HQ to sell it just by calling the shortlist of people who expressed interest. Neighbors, too, say they know friends who love the neighborhood and keep asking after the house.

Wouldn't it be swell to have real estate transactions all over and done by the turn of the year? Then I could put down profits on the Mabel mortgage and call it good.

An anecdote from last week: After many showings and a couple of well-attended open houses, I decide to go through Galusha afresh, looking at it as a potential buyer would. In the main bath, I yank open the top drawer of the vanity and there's a big piece of blue tape, obviously meant to hold something together while glue dryed. On it, in thick black Sharpie written by one of the crew: HANDS OFF FUCKNUTS.

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