On Friday we looked at a great house about a mile from my sister's house. It was like walking through a Pottery Barn cataloge. I loved the house, and my kids were playing so HAPPILY in the backyard. I was ready to sign on any line of any paper they gave me.
But then Garry pointed out some flaws, and I realized that the house was beautiful because of her furnishings. What would it look like with my stuff? Not as spectacular, that was for sure.
But I still wanted Garry to consider it, but he still preferred the Esperanza house. To exercise the ghost of Esperanza, we went back and saw it on Sunday. We have not seen it for over three months; we probably romanticized it. It was probably NOT that fabulous.
Nope, still fabulous. Check out the kitchen.
In my townhouse I had two dawers. In this apartment I have had a wonderful five. I looked at all of the drawers in Esperanza -- I lost count. She has a million, especially in the island.
See, isn't this house worth living in cramped quarters surrounded by questionable neighbors for months on end? Well, today it is. I make no promises about tomorrow.