As I drove along Florin Road yesterday, which is a terrible street for traffic, I realized the number of the house was already slipping my mind. I was on my way to pick up a lockbox from a closed listing. They don't make the left-turn lanes on Florin long enough for cars to pull into or the lights are not timed properly. Often the left lanes are backed up with cars waiting to turn into one of many strip malls.
So it was about that time, as I managed to navigate out of another pile up of cars, that I thought, hey, I could pull over somewhere (good luck with that) and try to find the files on that transaction on my cell, or I could email my assistant and ask her. It was either 7398 or 7389. Knew the sign would be gone from the yard.
Since it had been a few days from closing, my brain knew enough to automatically begin deleting unused data stored upstairs, so goodbye house number. When you get older, you've gotta move around those boxes in the attic to find stuff.
You can read more about the sale of this house in my personal blog today at this link: Seller Asked: Did You Just Sell a Home in Hampton Station?
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