...But I'll probably still drive by the house and stalk them

Yesterday we handed over the keys to our old house. It's done, over, GONE!

I feel a million pounds lighter now. Things got a little scary the day before yesterday when their realtor mentioned some bullshit about water in the basement (it's a 100 year old house. It's damp down there. No one's going to finish it. Get over it.). He of course pointed out that the buyers weren't worried about it, but he felt it was his duty as their representation to point it out. Whatever.

I went into the closing with a bit of trepidation. I was scared that they were going to surprise us at the last minute with some demands, but they didn't. The whole thing went rather smoothly actually.

They assured us they would bring any residual mail we might get there over to our store (as they are sometimes customers), and filled Jim in on some of the projects they had planned for the house.

It was all friendly and cordial and wonderful.

The most wonderful part though was when we got home and I sat down and wrote fat checks to the credit cards companies. Paid in full, motherfuckers! Whoo Hoo!

Tomorrow the girls and I leave for a family wedding in Arizona, and now I feel like I can actually enjoy the vacation. No worries. No problems.

Watch some asshole try and hijack the plane. He might be aiming for 10,000 virgins, but all he'll be getting a 10,000 punches to the peen, courtesy of me.

No one's going to harsh my buzz, man.