I haven’t mentioned it much, but real estate has been much on my mind the past couple of months. With another pastry in the oven and the timer ticking, we need a bigger place to live. Last night the missus and I left little Josephine with a neighbor and strolled down the street to look at a house we’d (I’d) been admiring. It’s just a little thing, probaly too little, but I’m a sucker for old wood frame homes. The little old lady that lived there announced she was moving to a condo, and invited us down for a look.
It was a big disappointment. The downstairs was beautiful, only four rooms, but with an old gas hearth in every one. Gorgeous. The upstairs reminded me of the cold dorm I was forced to sleep in my first week at college. A total disaster. And small. Not at all a family home. I walked away dejected, since I’d pinned my hopes on an easy purchase and move, probably a little more than I was willing to admit. The wife? She just bounced down the street: oh, there’ll be another one, let’s go get ice cream.
Well there’s a Dairy Queen a few blocks from here so we went on over. I wasn’t over the house disappointment and didn’t feel like eating. She ordered her trademark: a small Snickers Blizzard. When it came up I noticed it seemed a little small and droopy, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to pay much attention. We set out for home. By the time we got to our block I began to notice Mrs. Joe wasn’t saying much. In fact she was downright somber. In front of our house, the last few bites of Blizzard still left in her cup, she looked like she could cry.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Oh this Blizzard is terrible,” she moaned. “It’s all soft and soupy, plus there are bits of cookie in it that I didn’t order. I think they just re-mixed an old one with some Snikers bits and gave it to me.”
“Do you want to go back and get another one?” I said.
“No, I’m too depressed,” she said. “What a terrible waste. I can’t believe how awful this Blizzard is, and I really had my hopes up.” She stuffed her hand in her purse, pulled out her keys and trudged up our front steps. “Now I think I know how you were feeling about the house.”
Now I think I know how you were feeling about the house. Therein, ladies and germs, lies the difference in priorities between the wife and I. It’s one of the reasons I married her.