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  • Writer's pictureChoo Choo

Like Sands Through the Hourglass


Three weeks ago to the hour, we were having our semi-regular lunch date at that pasta place in Vinings when you looked down at your phone and your mouth dropped open.

"What?" I inquired, dumbly.

"They accepted the offer."

Three and a half weeks ago, we met with a realtor you'd found while house-browsing on Trulia. It was more or less a weekend whim. We'd found a handful of places we liked and decided to see them in person. Just something to do on a lazy Saturday. We fell in love with the first one. An offer was made, then accepted with no objection or counter.

Two and a half weeks ago, we went back to the house for the home inspection. With the exception of a few minor details, there was nothing catastrophic. I spent the majority of the time measuring room dimensions and getting excited about how many chamber music parties I'd be able to host in the main room.

Time seems to be accelerating. This week I'm making my solo debut with the Atlanta Symphony. In less than a week I'm turning 30. By this time next week we will be vacationing in (probably) freezing New York City, and I couldn't be more excited.

Closing date is March 4.

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