My seller called me seventeen times on closing day. Seventeen. I know because my phone tracks it and I screenshot it for my therapist. The first call was at 6:47 AM asking if the buyers were "still committed." By call number four, she was convinced they were going to back out because she'd had a dream about it. Call eight was her crying because she'd just realized she'd never see her kitchen again. Call eleven was her demanding we halt everything because she suddenly wasn't sure she'd disclosed that the garage door makes a weird noise in February. By call fifteen, she was accusing the buyers of trying to steal her home for pennies and questioning why I hadn't negotiated harder three weeks ago. Call sixteen was her apologizing profusely and saying I was like a daughter to her. Call seventeen was asking if I thought she should leave a bottle of wine for the buyers or if that was "too intimate." We closed. She hugged me for an uncomfortable amount of time in the title company parking lot. Then she asked if I'd help her buy a condo next month. I'm considering a career in literally anything else.