I got a call from my seller at 11 p.m. the night before closing because she'd decided she wasn't emotionally ready to let go of the house. This is the same woman who called me in March begging me to sell it fast because she'd already put a deposit on a condo in Florida. We had a signed contract, a buyer who'd jumped through every hoop, and movers literally scheduled for 8 a.m. I spent forty-five minutes on the phone while she sobbed about the kitchen where she taught her kids to make pancakes. I reminded her, gently, that those kids are forty-two and thirty-nine years old and live in different states. She asked if we could delay closing by "a few weeks" so she could process her feelings. I explained that's not really how legally binding contracts work. She called me heartless. At 6 a.m., she texted me "I'm ready, let's do this" with a sunshine emoji like nothing happened. We closed at noon. She hugged the buyers and told them they were getting "the best house in America." I need a vacation.