Beckett
Pulling my truck to a stop,I climb out and stare at the familiar brick façade, surprised at my lack of emotion.
This beautiful brownstone was my home for the last three years, and though it served me well, just a few weeks away from it has the place feeling foreign. And that’s how I know I’m doing the right thing. My accountant threw a fit when she heard I was going to sell. But even though my business is literally property management, I specialize in large commercial buildings not individual homes. Plus, with a price tag of a few million, a one-time sale is worth it.
Walking up to the front door, the lock clicks smoothly as I turn my key, and I step into the foyer bracing myself for the week of bullshit ahead.
I cleared out the majority of my stuff before I left, leaving only enough furniture and personal belongings to stage the home properly. But the call I got from my realtor yesterday means that I need to get the rest of this shit out of here, and fast. Because the new owners want to sign by the end of the week. And even minimal staging ads up when it’s a 7,000 square foot home.
Of course I could just pay someone to do this for me, but I prefer to handle things myself. My cousin would call it being cheap, but I like to think of it as being responsible with my money.
Elouise will still be at school, so I resist the urge to pull out my phone to call her and instead start my walk through of the house.
Last night, after we both came down from our little phone-sex high, Elouise quickly hung up. Clearly embarrassed about what we’d done. I was tempted to stop over this morning before I left town but I knew if I went to her house, I’d end up fucking her. And not that I didn’t want to do that, but I had a six hour drive ahead of me and she had to get ready to teach the nation’s youth.
Being a responsible adult sucks.
Making my way into the kitchen, I find a small pile of mail on the breakfast table. I changed my address to my cousin’s place in Minnesota, but there’s always a few lingering items.
Flipping through, I see a letter from my lawyer. Considering the paperwork has all been signed, and my bill has been paid, I decide to ignore the envelope. That’s a topic I’ll deal with on another day.