My wife is not real picky. That is fortunate for me. Otherwise, she might never have decided to marry me.
We were visiting different neighborhoods in Baltimore this past weekend in advance of a possible move there next summer, and we happened to run into a woman on the street who turned out to be realtor. The woman was the listing agent for an empty house down the street, and she agreed to show it to us.
Great, I laughed to myself as we walked up the steps. This is the house we are going to buy, and I can’t believe this decision is going to be made on the basis of a chance encounter on the street.
You see, my wife has a history of going for the very first place she sees. She did this with the first two apartments we shared together on Capitol Hill. This is great, she would say to me the moment we walked into the place. Let’s take it.
We did take a while to decide on our first houses, both in Arlington. And in Philadelphia, it wasn’t the first house we walked into but the second.
My wife does not dwell on things once a decision has been made. She saves herself lots of time that way, time she can put to much more productive use. As my younger sister has said, things don’t happen for a reason. Things happen and you find a reason.
In the old days, I used to torture myself, visiting every other listing in the area before concluding that my wife was right after all with the first one. But I have learned a few things over the years: Now I can’t help thinking it will be the right house no matter which one we choose.
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