Percy has accepted a bid on his house, and when I met the buyers, I couldn't believe my luck.
Childless lesbians. My second choice of new neighbors. First choice, if you disallow Beyoncé, which I never will. But failing that particular miracle, can you believe my luck?
Better still, they're kind and complimented my house instead of bitching about it.
Better still, they're my age instead of the median Metamuvillian age of 104.
Better still, they're already talking about joint beach parties.
Better still, they have a house in Seattle and would only be here every other weekend.
Best of all, one of them works as a headhunter for people in my profession.
I could scarcely believe my luck. I was vibrating with rare levels of happiness. I offered them free wifi as an inducement. Every day, I watch Percy's sign for a "sold" placard. Every day, nothing happens.
"They came back with some requests from their inspection," Percy just snarled at me, visibly offended. "I said no to 'em all."