For the most part, this was a really nice weekend. We stayed in Friday night and watched "Fracture," which I thought was pretty good. Saturday morning we hung out at the pool, I went for a run (not a good idea to start out at noon in Florida when there's no shade) and came back to find out there was a couple very interested in our home! They had been there the day before, really liked it and wanted to come back again. They're relocating from out of state and said they need to be in a place in three weeks. We can do that! We would do it in a week if need be.
So all weekend we've been waiting for the call. Waiting for the offer. "Is that your phone?" I ask my husband every time I hear anything. All through church, all through dinner last night with friends and all through our excursion to Sea World today (we are now the holders of season passes), we waited. I kept imaging where we would be, how I would react, the relief we'd feel, "we never thought it would sell," we would tell people. I'd calculate the time back West and figure out what they might be doing--having dinner and discussing their offer; perhaps taking a break to do some wine tasting at the wineries near our house before making the plunge.
Finally around 4 this afternoon our agent sent a text message: they went back to wherever they came from and didn't buy anything; they didn't "love" anything. I have no idea what they're going to do in three weeks when they supposedly needed to be in a place. But apparently they won't be moving into ours.
I'm so bummed. I thought this was it. And it isn't. I'm in a really bad mood now. I feel like I've been on a huge roller coaster ride and didn't enjoy it nearly as much as PB did the one at Sea World.
And to make matters worse, I saw some pictures of me that were taken today, and for all the good exercise I've been doing, I still look like Shamu!