I’m a Louse, a House Cheater

My new love? Image via Google Maps.

I admit it; I’m a cheater. I’ve found another.

She’s beautiful; a solid life partner. She has a great figure, and I can imagine my life with her. Plus she has that something, that je ne sais quoi.

In Detroit, that means she has plumbing. It really is the little things that make for a compatible marriage.

Karl doesn’t like her, though. I tell him to look again, check out her, um, assets. There are no lines on her face; no weathering. We could trade up for a newer, younger model. One with, again, plumbing.

But no, he’s committed. He’s the good one. He doesn’t waver. Especially for something flashy like electricity. Besides, he doesn’t like her kitchen.

But for $125,000 — and completely finished — she’s perfect. So much more low maintenance, what with her finished walls and working electrical. It would take some time, of course, to get the rhythm of the relationship. To work off the sharp edges. But I can do that. My longest adult relationship is, after all, my 14-year-old cantankerous Siamese cat who poops on the couch. I have patience.

In all honesty, though, Karl is right; we found our match. No sense getting worked up over the new girl. Sometimes the strongest love is the one you already have.

Still, no harm in looking, right?