It’s a hit.

By Wednesday night I'd all but given up. We had scoured the internet, cold called homes that were for sale, contacted every property management place in two towns and memorized every listing on craigslist going back 3 months.

Nada.

Home number three in the area had a beautiful posting on craigslist that delved into loving details of the most amazingly beautiful home so far. Hidden in the post was the line, "Accepting no pets of any kind so don't even ask."

The kids had all reached the deliriously-happy-borderline-frenetic point, asking at different times about different things-- rules, timing, can-we-gets, you name it-- and my internal meter was set firmly between I-must-make-everyone-happy-I-cannot-fail, and PMS. This is not a good mix for a gal who suffers from chronic anxiety, nor for a guy who is planning on living with a gal who suffers from chronic anxiety.

We couldn't find a place.

It's not so much that we weren't wanted, but rather... oh wait-- yeah. That's right. We weren't wanted.

My partner was subtextually hinting at life-sans-pets, that there is so much more out there to choose from if we didn't have... but one look at four-year old Sydney laughing as Wallace licked her ice-cream chin while Trevor hand fed Gromit popcorn, and really that became the unutterable thought.

Good thing I'd already given notice to my rental company. Good thing I'd already told everyone, my family, my kids; good thing father time was bearing down on us like a big thing that bears down. On, you know. People.

I picked up Sydney, who was just rising from her nap, from my mom's place. She was in a "I hate you go away I don't want you leave me alone" mood, which added to my general sense of self-loathing. The sounds of her melodious wailing in the background, my partner in crime (PIC) calls, and tells me he has maybe some news.

"It's really beautiful, located on the other side of the planet,"
"Did you ask about pets??" I intterupt.
"It's got 5 bedrooms, 3 full bathrooms, huge kitchen, family room, living room,"
"Isn't that the same one from craigslist?"
"It is the same one from craigslist."
"They don't take pets."
"Granite countertops, huge bathtub in the master bedroom--"
"I saw the pictures. It's gorgeous. But it doesn't matter. Pets. They don't take--"
"And he'll take pets. Outside only."
"WHAT? You talked them into pets?"
"Outside only."
"What about kids?" Pause.
"I mentioned the kids. Three of them. We'll update him after we sign the lease."

Location-shmocation. They took pets. And kids-- some of them anyway. And if this place was true to its pictures, there were enough closets to hide the rest. Think AIRHOLES.

Looks like we found a home.