My friend Niki and I like to pretend. We like to go to open houses, not only on Sunday, but anytime we see an open sign, or sign showing that a home is a model home, and we like to go into it with the pretense that we're rich and famous and we'd like to consider it for a purchase. You know, for the kids, because we couldn't possibly live in such a small house of say 3000 square feet. We much have the Chateaux!
Going to model homes on Sunday must be a way of life for some families - a form of entertainment. I like to stand back in the dining area and listen to the families coming into the house and watch the kids screaming and running up and down the stairs "calling" rooms, and claiming their space. We did that. When I was a kid, we would go to homes on Sunday after dinner and we'd pretend it was our house - or going to be. Like the kid I was in the 1960's, Niki and I go and look, pretend, wish and dream - making statements to each other, but we don't even try to fake out the mortgage guy, the realtor, or the person showing the open house. We're beyond that. We just lie to each other, and try to out do each other when it comes to the lawn being just so, or the master bedroom's closet being far too small for all of our clothes. We can't buy this one I'll say, because the island in the kitchen is too close to the cabinet. We can't buy this one she'll say, because the fireplace doesn't have the right ambiance. Not conducive to the lifestyle we have been accustomed to. (Then we smile and giggle just a little before we leave)
Today's last home was a bit different - it felt like I could actually get it someday - someday meaning after the first of the year when my books are mainstream, and the contract for the next three books are picked up. Maybe, just maybe, we actually walked through my future home. If we did, I'll be living on Carriage Way in Oklahoma City, rather than in the high rise condo I have been so painstakingly looking for in Chicago - IT may become my fantasy home, the one that got away - or perhaps I'll end up subletting for a few months each year to write and/or get away from the brats. That's it - the house I looked at today was big enough, 3600 square feet, to be in the house with the kids, and not even realize it - not if they were on THEIR side of the house. We could draw a line really - they could have the South end and I would take the North. I guess the kitchen's island, which isn't too close to the Galaxy-Black granite cabinet, could be Base. We could keep our hands on it and be safe - like in that game Tag - you have to have a Base...never mind, I'm digressing, just trying to take you with me down that memory - you get it.
This house had 3 garages, but one of them was separate, apart from the house, had it's own drive to it - that's where the Christmas stuff would be stored. You have a 3600 square foot house and you're going to have a 12x15 storage unit for your seasonal needs. The 2nd living area is the "Christmas Tree Room" in our family - always has been. Recently the poor thing has been stuck in a corner, squashed against the bricks in the den, or between the dining room and the hall because there wasn't room to walk around it properly otherwise - not in this house, it has its OWN room - maybe I'll get another tree for the formal dining, just to keep the squishing tree tradition going! Family traditions shouldn't die just because I can afford a bigger house!
If this were, or going to be my new house - I'll be happy when I see myself in the overtly deep Jetta spa in my bathroom - candles burning, bubbles bobbing, steam rolling - and Buble on the CD...NO one better interrupt this woman's pleasure - well, someone, but not a kid! Like the moment the dog makes the sighing sound, the sign that they've retired for the night - this woman will make the aaaaahhhhhhhh "I'm-in-the-tub-now" sigh, and that's all she wrote. (All she wrote, get it, I'm an author - all she wrote! Never mind, it was funny, I laughed.)