Addendum To: OK, *Now* I Know We're Giving Up The Store. I Think. Maybe.

Just as I was coming up from downstairs after Mother was freaking the fuck out about why the green light on the humidifier was on, My Father beckons me into his bedroom.  There, lying on his bed so still he seems paralyzed, he reminds me to look at the contract he gave me last week.  It's one about the sale of one of his real estate properties in town.  He wants this contract to be the template of the one for the sale of The Store, only he basically wants a non-warranty clause -- kind of like you see those huge signs taped to the windows of used cars, with two boxes, one next to "WARRANTY" and the other next to "AS IS," you know?

And then he says the sale of The Store could be complete by next week.

Gulp.