I've been showing this couple houses for four months now. Every Saturday and Sunday, rain or shine, I'm out there unlocking doors and pretending to be excited about crown molding. They've seen 62 properties. I know because my therapist asked me to start counting. Last weekend, we toured a gorgeous colonial that checked every single box on their list. Updated kitchen, finished basement, big backyard, great school district, under budget. I'm practically vibrating because this is finally it. The wife walks through the entire house silently, then turns to me and says, "The street name has too many syllables. I don't want to have to say it every time I give someone my address." The street name. Too many syllables. Her husband nodded like this was a completely reasonable dealbreaker. Meanwhile, I'm standing there calculating how much I've spent on gas alone for this couple. They asked if I could find them something similar but on a street with a "snappier" name. I went home and ate an entire sleeve of Oreos in my car before going inside to face my family.