Full House

Why do we play 3,3, even to a standard re-raise, when just about anything can squash it after the river?
Hope.
We hope that that magical third 3 will hit a rainbow flop, and then you get a whole lotta chippies shipped your way and you get to brag in your blog that you are the Best Poker Player Ever.
If a fourth hits, you get to say something about quads and beeches.
The chances are small, of course, that you will hit, but when you do, magic happens.
Or everyone folds to your bet and you get $2.
But I digress.
I kept this in mind every time we would spend an hour picking up toys, shoving magazines in the bottom drawer under the TV and loading up the two wild labs and the kiddie-poo in the car for a showing. I kept it in mind through the endless open houses when I had to take the labs to the dog park on a windy, cold day and the Chiefs were actually playing on CBS that week instead of the goddam Denver Broncos. I kept it in mind when, twice, we had offers waived under our nose, only to yank them away at the last second, once because they decided our basement was just a little too big. Suckouts happen against you as well, even when you have a set.
Such is the housing market in Greeley, CO. I even wrote stories on it. If you had a home you needed to sell, well, your chances were about as good as hitting your set on the flop. We have too many lots and despite our monster growth, not even people to buy them.
In our case, our chances were much, much worse, given that in three years on the market, we had two close calls and no offers. Our home was nice, honest. We aren't meth users. We just had only two bedrooms and a monster-huge basement (finished). That was enough to turn away most families who were in that first-time homebuyer market we were trying to serve.
That's about a 1:456 chance, which is, if I"m not mistaken, like getting AA back to back and getting them paid both times? It's twice as easy to flop a flush than those odds.
But then, during another showing last week, Kate called and said the people were there for more than a half-hour and were very excited about the house. At that point, I was through. I had had enough of playing those small pocket pairs only to get stiffed on the flop. I was convinced we were never going to sell our home.
Friday, we got an offer.
I couldn't even believe it at first. And it was fair, really a fair offer.
We've spent the last few days shopping for a new house. We need more room for the J-man and possibly another one on the way in the next few months (before you start sending me cigars, no, it hasn't happened yet). We need a house we're happy with.
We need a home.
I'm trying not to think too hard about it, but tonight we will narrow our choices and pick a home. I'll finally be able to get high speed Internet and have my own "guy's" room. Our "two car" garage won't force us to lose 30 pounds every time we try to get out of our cars. I won't have to fuck with the goddam weeds in the back all the time or pick up after our ugly cottonwoods.
Our buyer is a kind old lady who loved our house. I doubt she's backing out. The chips have not been shipped my way yet.
But I think, finally, I just hit a full house.