At the end of every year my friend and I visit a psychic. For us, it’s a little cosmic fun! What is going to happen next year? Will we finally meet the man of our dreams? (‘Cause Lord knows we’ve both had a few nightmares!) The results of these missions are rarely groundbreaking.
“You are going to meet a man named Peter. He is going to be the love our your life yadda, yadda.”
It’s harmless fun which turns into a year-long running joke on our search for Peter. So, you can imagine my surprise when Rina, our psychic, said something to me that made me stock-still.
“You are trying to buy a house,” Rina stated.
“It’s not gonna work out.”
“You don’t like it. Wait for something you like. It will come in February, don’t rush into this.”
My mouth hit the floor.