I showed a couple 47 houses over four months. Forty-seven. I kept count because I started to lose my grip on reality somewhere around house thirty-two. Every single property had something catastrophically wrong with it according to them. Too close to a fire hydrant. Neighbor had a boat in the driveway. Ceiling fan in the bedroom was "ominous." One house was rejected because the previous owner had cats and the wife claimed she could "sense their energy" even though the place had been vacant and professionally cleaned for two months. Finally, FINALLY, they found "the one." We went under contract. I nearly cried with relief. Three days before closing, they backed out because the husband googled the address and found a negative Yelp review for a pizza place two miles away. He said it indicated "the area doesn't support quality local businesses" and he couldn't raise a family somewhere with subpar pizza options. They asked if I'd be available to start looking again in the spring. I told them I was transitioning into commercial real estate. I'm not. I just can't do it again.