Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton (Memoirs)
At the end of the school year I decided to take a long trip back to Chicago and he East Coast to visit friends and people who had offered me jobs. I still wasn't sure what to do with my life. On the way to the airport, Bill and I passed a red brick house near the university with a "For Sale" sign out front. I casually mentioned that it was a sweet-looking little house and never gave it a second thought. After a few weeks of traveling and thinking, I decided I wanted to return to my life in Arkansas and to Bill. When Bill picked me up, he asked, "Do you remember that house you liked? Well, I bought it, so now you'd better marry me because I can't live in it by myself."
Bill proudly drove up the driveway and ushered me inside. The house had a screened in porch, a living room with a beamed cathedral ceiling, a fireplace, a big bay window, a good-sized bedroom and bathroom and a kitchen that needed a lot of work. Bill had already bought an old wrought-iron bed at a local antiques store and had been to WalMart for sheets and towels.
This time I said "yes."
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