Every time you look at a house you bring those questions to it. Until you don’t. Which is to say, until you get to the point that you simply can’t stand looking at even one more house. Then, identity, shmidentity, it’s “Hey, it’s way over our budget, it doesn’t have a fireplace, it doesn’t have a great big dining room, it’s nowhere near where we prefer to live, and there’s a water tower on the corner, but the walls are painted nicely, the kitchen’s good, and the toilets flush — sold.”

Or as the TV ad might put it: House — a bazillion dollars. Closing costs — an arm and a leg. Movers — a college account. Getting this over with — priceless.

And that is our happy ending. We found a house. Not perfect by a long shot. But it’s done.

I hear that, in a year or two, we may even start speaking to each other again.