“Are we done?!”
I had signed the final paperwork and still did not completely believe it.
The Poughkeepsie house started with a cut basement beam and a sagging floor. Buying it took months of lenders, title reports, extensions, and contractor estimates. The renovation added electrical work, heating, windows, porches, floors, kitchens, bathrooms, fireplaces, and a steady supply of new problems.
The house also became home. Amanda, Eva, friends, and family moved there during COVID. We worked, cooked, trained, fixed things, and tried to make a large old Victorian function for a group of people who had not planned to live together.
Selling it became another project.
The buyers made an offer before they had seen the place. Then came the basement questions, the certificate of occupancy, an egress window, rebuilt porch footings, stairs, trim, wiring, inspections, cleaning, moving, storage, and a dumpster.
The building inspector eventually said the improvements were far beyond what he expected. The old permits were cleared. I signed the closing package and asked what else I had to do.
The final walk-through still found one last thing: my mail.
There was a pile in the mailbox, including a few pieces that looked important. I arranged for somebody to pick it up and checked the forwarding again. After closing, the buyers had a question about an outdoor water spigot and whether there was a shutoff valve somewhere inside.
Of course they did.
I thanked the people who had pushed the sale and repairs through. I told them I could not imagine how it would have gotten done without them. I also said I would reach out when there was another project to work on.
That was probably inevitable. This project was done.