How I was seduced into shopping for a home in #Santa #Fe

As wonderful and charming as Santa Fe was, it was not my intention to buy a home there, adobe or otherwise.   However, based on my “need to know,” before that trip I was not informed of my wife’s ultimate home-buying goal.

My wonderful wife, Grace, is not a devious person.  She is straightforward, honest, smart and so gorgeous that she can make my heart involuntarily clutch when I look at her first thing in the morning, last moment at night and inbetween.  That noted, it seems that a solid basis of our marriage is that Grace often gives me just enough information and no more.  How many times have I gone shopping with her because she said, “it will be FUN,” only to discover that the real reason was to visit five shoe stores and a dozen dress shops?

Although she would later insist that I fully knew about her dreams of New Mexican home ownership, and had even agreed with her, I had not, at least in my mind.  Saying yes to, “Wouldn’t it be fun to go to Santa Fe and see what’s there?” is far from taking on the responsibility for a half a million dollar house. 

I admit that’s a bit harsh.  Before any purchase, I always have doubts, even when it comes to buying underwear or breadsticks.  I have learned that, if I overcome those qualms, Grace will not only be right, but our lives will become better and I will be happier, usually with underwear that fits.  Eventually there is joy, profit and even sexiness when I agree with whatever my wife wants (a hint to others about achieving happiness in marriage). 

Wherever we go in this world, Grace looks at real estate.   It was once her profession and now it is a serious hobby.  After examining homes in Portugal, Spain, New Zealand, Canada and any state in America we visited, Grace has nearly convinced me, a guy who hates to shop, that it can be interesting to see how people live and organize their private spaces. 

That’s why, while she is touring the home and asking about the square footage and the number of bedrooms, I go immediately to the bathroom medicine cabinet because it profiles the owners and their needs for aspirin, suppositories and sometimes Viagra.  Grace says that does not help determine how much interest we have in the home, and she is probably right, but it does keep my fascination alive.  

I am convinced that, if we were standing at either the North or South Poles, somehow a real estate agent would find Grace and immediately begin whispering about bargains newly on the market, casually mentioning the availability of a spacious igloo with attached garage suitable for sled dogs.  If we were in farthest Mongolia, the agent would whisper about a three-bedroom yurt fixer-upper with a new felt roof.