In a flurry of activity last week, we sold our home (after 4 counteroffers... countercounter-offers? counteroffers to the power of 4?) and looked at nearly a dozen homes before finally putting in an offer this morning. Somehow I managed to get some scrappin' done in there (this is the Betsy Ross House in Philly). We won't know until the end of the week, most likely, if we got the house.
There were three signs is relatively short order that it was "our" house: we walked through to the back patio and all of us shouted "WILLOW TREE!" --everyone knows that is my favorite kind of tree, especially in spring; my MIL heard bullfrogs galumping when she went outside to keep an eye on Tess (this has a special significance for her as my FIL was fascinated by the frogs they heard on their daily walk to a nearby pond) (earlier, the first offer on our house came in on my FIL's birthday); finally at the next house the battery on our video camera died, as if to say "you are done looking now!"
E has instantly mellowed on the me-time/you-time issue, amongst other things. Weird how stressed the whole home-selling, home-buying process made both of us. I think it helped him process his dad's death, in a roundabout way.