My house is sold. We (the buyers and I) signed the papers at the notary this morning. I have no more keys, no more mortgage debt, no more worries about expenses I can’t afford, no more pretty house. I’ve waited for this a long time.
As I was walking back from this morning’s business to my rented apartment I looked at my bank book and almost had a heart attack. With all the proceeds from the sale, there wasn’t enough to buy the apartment in Figueres and pay all the buyer’s fees. I had withdrawn money from my IRA, but apparently I hadn’t thought it through well enough and hadn’t withdrawn enough. Oh my God.
But before fainting onto the sidewalk I realized that I have already paid the deposit, so there is that much less remaining to pay. Gracies a Deu. My math was correct and I’ll be OK.
The cats are not happy. They have a balcony but they want to go out. They want to scratch trees. They want to explore. Mostly they want to sleep in the garden. Instead, they are prisoners in this little apartment. They don’t know anything, nor do they care about mortgages or house expenses. I’m hoping that a nice, tall cat tree when we get settled will mollify them a little. I’d like them to be as happy as I am.