I'm roughly 45 minutes away from selling my little home. My stomach is turning and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Maybe it's the coffee? The lumberjack on the other hand just asked me if I wanted an egg sandwich. Obviously, he's not experiencing this case of nerves.
For about 24 hours, I will not own a house.
If you see a Honda pulled over on the side of the interstate, don't worry. That's just me emptying the contents of my stomach.
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