Last night, after “The Debacle of Epic Proportions” when we still didn’t know if we would get our house or not, we went to the park we got married at to take a short walk.  I felt better.  R. was still thinking up new versions of his hate letter to Bank of Crappy Loan Processors America.  I took another look this morning, after finding out we had finally closed, and took a long sigh of relief.

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