At the end of last month, one of our real-estate brokers was chatting with another broker, who mentioned that a client of his regretted not buying the house that Adam and I eventually bought. As I may have written here, as much as we liked aspects of the house, we realized—only after buying it—that we dreaded the prospect of a big renovation project, which we felt the house needed. And our broker knew that.
"Make them an offer," she said.
Well, the guy did, and we got to a point where we're basically whole. And now we've closed contingencies, meaning that if the buyer pulls out before we close in a couple of weeks, he forfeits a substantial deposit. And if/when we close, Adam and I will be back where started—looking for a house.
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In the run-up to my fiftieth birthday, whenever I mentioned that the momentous occasion was approaching, I would politely pause so that the listener could insist that such a thing was simply not possible. (It never happened.) I grew resigned to perhaps looking my age; there was some comfort in knowing I don't always act it. And then I went for my colonoscopy. When I was wheeled into the room where it happens—talk about a different musical!—the doctor said, "You're 50? I can't believe it. I would've said 35 or maybe 40." It wasn't when or where I expected it, but I'll take it.
P.S. It helped make up for my initial call to the gastroenterology office, when I was asked, "Are you over 80?"
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Patrick Berry is the best crossword constructor out there, and I get extra joy from the Rows Garden puzzles he devises for the Wall Street Journal every other week. Consequently, I was delighted to see that he has ten free ones on his website. They're definitely worth a go if you like this kind of thing.
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How on earth did this one slip by the censors?
Among the notes reminding me what to write about here is the word "lemons." I have no idea why, so you'll just have to fill in the rest yourself.