The call came yesterday at 3:20pm. My realtor had just left for the Bahamas, and the call was from the woman filling in for him. I heard it in her voice. I said, " The contract on my house fell through, didn't it?"
"Oooooh, I just can't stand bearing this kind of news......Your buyer backed out because apparently she and her husband freaked out over the inspection report, even though the report was a very typical one.... and the other party who wanted to make an offer after the open house day isn't returning my calls...."
I am disillusioned. It had appeared that the good luck I always used to have, which had seemed to dissipate when my mother died, was back with me. I loved telling the story (over the past week) of how my house had gone into contract the day it went on the market, for a price higher than what I was asking! And this after I had defied my realtor by taking my sweet old time, thus entering the market at a bad time (end of summer). This was how Betty's life used to be, all of the time. Charmed, without a doubt.
I now mourn the loss, not just of my dream of living in a thriving pedestrian neighborhood in a Victorian house, but of what I had thought was the turnabout of my luck.