The Realtor

Suzanne decided that selling the house in Saltineville was a must-do.  As quickly as possible, b/c she knew they needed to get all of the money out of the house that they could, and the days of flipping houses...well, those days were over b/c all of the people were beginning to realize that they were, in fact, not rich--(even if the bank wanted them to think so). ;).
Suzanne was gonna do it herself--but that was for the birds.
Real estate broker became a job for a reason.
After having shown her house to at least five strangers and talking to one crazy guy who {almost convinced Suzanne that he was the guy who was gonna buy the house), Suzanne called the realtor.  The person came out to the house, told Suzanne all that was wrong, and sold the house--no money lost!
"Whew,"  Suzanne thought, "we got outta that one like a cat out the screen door!"
In all honesty, the house in Saltineville was one of the best Suzanne could have picked.  It was a cute, brick ranch house with all hardwood floors, a beautiful kitchen, a large backyard, a car port, two man cave sheds, in a neighborhood, two bathrooms...just perfect.
BUT--this wonderful house was not in Wishington, which was precisely where Suzanne had determined, in the blink of a moment, that she and her family needed to be.
So, it was goodbye perfect house, hello {home}.
Just a sidenote, the perfect house also had a gigantic interstate that ran not even a mile away down some hills, and when the leaves fell off the trees...the interstate literally roared!  (Wishington did not even have an interstate within an hour's drive).
Interestingly enough...during those moments, any little tid bit of bad that could have crept up as a cautionary tell to Suzanne hid itself in all the {goodness} that Wishington had to offer.
...grandparents, diamonds on the river, no interstate, gente conocida, a {bestie} who lived right there in Wishington...the list goes on.
Stay tuned--Suzanne is gonna get to Wishington soon....