I'm sitting proxy for my buyer this afternoon at an inspection, presiding over the kitchen table just waiting for the entertainment. Inspections are like scary movies: You cover your eyes, look through the hood of your sweatshirt, and peek out when the music doesn't sound too ominous. But you never leave. And just when you think everything couldn't have gone better, somebody falls through the roof, or the electric panel bursts into flames. Yep, I've had some really fun inspections. This one is particularly fun because the seller has decided to come back to her vacant home and sit in the kitchen with me. She is a smart lady and brought a whole stack of tabloid magazines to pass the time. I, on the other hand, have a laundry list of follow-up calls to make and paperwork to look through. She is not daunted by my use of the cell phone. At every opportune moment she praises her home's perfection and asks for my agreement. "I've lived in this house 26 years and raised all m...
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