One of the parishioners invited me to his house after work.
Oh, get your knickers out of their twist. He's 85. But he and his wife have a 1929 colonial house with a giant garden (his wife's in the garden club), and I had told him I knew I'd love the place.
And was it beautiful? Would I run my mother over with a tractor to own that place? (sorry, mom.) I told him that if I ever got to live in a house that grand, I'd never be sad again. It has SEVEN fireplaces, a stunning entryway and staircase, all hardwood floors, chandeliers, beautiful molding. And the gardens! Oh! You would die.
He also had an adorable terrier who looked just like Sandy in Little Orphan Annie, and do you know that terrier was outside playing with two huge dogs the whole time I was there? I asked if those were his dogs, and he said, "No, the lab belongs to Lynn down the street, and I don't even know who owns that mixed breed. They're always hanging out here."
How much do I love the country? Those dogs were living high on the hog, let me tell you. They were in this safe circle cul-de-sac area with huge woods, chasing squirrels and each other.
Also inside this elegant house was the oldest, most decrepit cat you have ever seen in your entire life. In the beautiful sun room, there was a huge IV on a pole. "That IV belongs to the cat," the parishoner told me.
The cat, if you could still call it that, was laid out on the master bed. Did you ever see that movie Seven when they think the guy on the bed is dead but then he moves and all the detectives jump? The cat looked like that. Nubile it was not. It creaked at me and struggled up for pets, which it wanted plenty of. You know how ancient cats are all bones? Seriously, it was like I was petting a skeleton that someone threw an old rag over. Oh, that poor historic thing. I think it was Methuselah's cat at one point.
Anyway. After having visited this glorious home, it has become apparent to me that I wish to be rich. Is that bad? Is that greedy? Does everyone else get depressed when they visit a house like that? Do you think proofreaders/church secretaries ever get big houses like that? Without marrying up? How many years do I have to not spend to get that house?
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9 comments:
Everyone feels envious when they see a house that they love but could never afford, or at least I do. But is it really true that you couldn't afford it? What are the property values like down there? I'm thinking you could get a sweet deal on the house of your dreams, but maybe that's because I live in bloated housing costs land. I live in (near, actually) one of those towns that the commoners can't afford, so they have to live outside the town and commute in.
The house sounds amazing!
Not to get all Sally Struthers on you, but ... I get that covetous feeling sometimes, when I visit other people's homes. But then I remember where I work. (www.compassion.com) And suddenly my little townhome seems like more than enough.
Becky,
You are totally Sally Struthersing on me, but I know of what you speak. I used to volunteer at this cat shelter, and when I came home to my shiny, contented cats, I just wanted to yell at them. "Do you all know how lucky you are!?" I am the same way. I have a delightful little house and I don't want for anything important.
And Catherine, he spent $175,000 on that house in 1999, which you know is a steal. I'll bet they'd ask 350 for it today. Which is still a steal.
I don't think your greedy. I think you are normal. I don't think anyone would turn down the chance to be rich.
That house sounds amazing. The dogs must have a great time.
If you go there again give that cat a pat for me.
No, I think being covetous and greedy is normal. I certainly am. It's part of what makes us human.
I would also start baking for him and spending lots of time there. Maybe you can find a spot in the will.
The story of the dogs reminded me of the dogs in my neighborhood in NC. We lived on a wooded acre and there weren't any fences dividing the yards. The dogs in the neighborhood were all allowed to hang out together. There was one Irish setter/lab mix, named Rosie, that was the sweetest dog, and also a thief.
If you didn't get your paper picked up on time she would come over and steal it. One time I left the garage open and I heard big clunking going on. I went out to look and Rosie had pulled a Costco size box of dog biscuits down from a shelf and was chewing her way to canine gluttony. After that she learned that if she came to the back door and waited on the deck I would gladly give her a treat.
Oh how I miss that!
I know what you mean. It does get me down a bit. Also. This weekend I spent with my orthopedic-surgeon-cousin's wife. Got that straight? She's perfect. She wears the most gorgeous chic clothes and has perfect highlights and perfect skin. Expensive everything. I want that. Sigh. Sometimes it's hard to be content with what you have. But then I realize I have SO much. And I am SO thankful. And I get over myself. Until the next time. Snort.
Stie - LMAO! You're hilarious.
That's not greedy. That's having a dream. Unless, of course, you do something to the guy and forge your name into his will.
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