A couple of years ago I lived in a duplex in Whitinsville. The attic was my bedroom. I spent a lot of time in that attic. I got a lot of work done on my master's thesis there. It was like being a kid again -- a secret hideout. Eventually I moved out, but I always had fond memories of my time there.
Six months ago a fire displaced everyone there and, sadly, the pet dog died. The house was rebuilt and my ex-roommate moved back in last week. Sad memories but ultimately everyone regrouped and emerged stronger than before.
Still, if I had been living in that attic last November, I probably wouldn't be here today.
Sometimes you think about what-ifs, and you think about circumstances that send you from one residence to another, life decisions that seem pretty benign. And you're happy about the path on which fate puts you.