Five days after it was listed for sale, I signed the preliminary papers agreeing to sell my house. Using my index finger. On my iPad.

I can still remember when we used to use pens with ink in them, but get a grip, guys. Today when you sell a house, you are still expected to sign your name 643 times, but thanks to electronic signatures, – with or without a handy stylus – there will be no two scribblings alike. And if both your index fingers have been previously amputated, no sweat. You can just use your elbow – nobody will notice, except maybe by an endangered species of nuns, who may still be trying to foster use of the Palmer Method of Handwriting.

It’s okay, though. There’s nothing wrong with finger writing. After all, the Book of Exodus tells us the Ten Commandments were written on tablets of stone by God Himself. And many biblical literalists have an anthropomorphic image of God at this point, suggesting that He wrote the words with His “finger”.

Not being God, this is how I wish some of my signatures could have looked but didn‘t.

Now and then, if I couldn’t make room in the little box for my last name, I didn’t worry about it, because, obviously, I was just testifying to the truth of all kinds of statements which were presented in a so-called real estate language possibly similar to cuneiform, Sanskrit or speaking-in-tongues, none of which can I claim any fluency.

For the final “Closing” papers, a real-life notary public will be showing up here in our donkey paradise with 997 pages of also unintelligible documents to be signed, presumably on paper, and with what I can only assume will be either a ball point pen, a feather plume, or finger paints – whatever they currently use to prove that, yes, I am selling my house to a new owner.

Not that I was worried about whatever statements I was signing. The house sold for so much more than its list price, that – in humble gratitude – I would have been willing to sign up for Game of Thrones’ Night’s Watch emptying bedpans, or work as a telemarketer, or join the Kardashian Fan Club, or cut off both of my big toes, or maybe my left ear which doesn’t hear very well anyway.

The bidding was competitive but was won by (gasp!) the young neighbor who shares part of my sewer and the ground the sewer runs through! Who would believe that after all my griping about needing a repair, the sewer would in the end – you should pardon the expression – ensure that our home will continue to shelter a classy neighbor like her, of all people! To sweeten her final offer, she even offered to write a check to pay for the sewer repair! Like I said, classy lady! The happy future of the house is ensured!

Along with her and her little daughter, I think the house will now be occupied by her parents, and I’ve got a comforting feeling that it will continue to be a place of peace and contentment.

The only thing I feel bad about is that they’ll be on their own. I probably can’t expect my son-in-law Brad to keep it that way for them. Along with the staging furniture and artwork, he won’t be included in the “package”. As everybody in my family is keenly aware, – due to my do-it-yourself ineptitude, – son Matthew and I couldn’t have kept living in the house after my husband Gene’s death, without Brad’s steady battening down of the hatches or keeping the mainsails intact and afurl.

Brad’s wife – my daughter Gretchen – has been diligently working her oar, too. Such as keeping the gardens watered for 2 hours every night during our persistent heat wave. Both she and Brad have other rigorous professions to deal with during their workdays than “handyman” and “gardener”, but under cover of darkness, they don their Batman and Wonder Woman attire and heroically show their true colors!

Before I sign off tonight, I have to tell you that the sale of the house was what you would have to call a roaring success, and because of it, I think I can offer you two exceedingly valuable home buying and selling tips, and here they are:

1. Hire a brilliant real estate agent and then LISTEN to whatever she tells you. As an example, the patio furniture with its bird droppings and frayed covers may indeed be truly comfortable and enthusiastically appreciated by your family and friends all these years, but you have to accept the pain and loss of ditching them . (I did, but only temporarily. Nobody said it had to be permanent. They’re now residing on our new porch in Enumclaw. I hope you can come and sit a spell. You’ll enjoy it! Of course, it may not make you want to buy the house, but it’s perfectly okay. We’re not selling.)
   
2. If you don’t live in these parts but you want to sell your house, and it isn’t selling at a reasonable price, here’s the most valuable advice I can offer: engage a house-moving company to put the house on wheels and then MOVE IT TO SEATTLE. You‘ll be amazed at what you can get for it. I don’t see how you can lose. Of course, if you don’t have a house to sell, do come anyway, but it’ll be a bit tricky. It might be a good idea to bring a waterproof yurt to live in. And maybe some food stamps.