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Friday, January 16, 2015

Letter to the rich guy

Dear rich guy,  

I was over on looking through some houses in desirable locations when I came across yours.  At $2.4M you were slightly out of my price range, but I had to have a look to see what that looked like on your 6 acres, so through the pictures I went.  I have to admit, my heart did a flip-flop when I saw your indoor pool and sauna.  It was a real pool, too, 25 yards and all, with several lanes.  I looked at your marble fireplace, and your seven bathrooms, with a separate tub and shower and heated floor tiles in the master bath.  

I started to imagine what it would be like to live in your house, all 11,000 square feet of it.  Your all mahogany library was quite a doozy.  I guess my Target bookshelves wouldn't have to make the move and I could really keep all of the books I read, instead of sending them out on or giving them away to Friends of the Library.  Your kitchen could house five of my kitchens and then some.  And then I looked at your bedroom.  It seemed the size of a gym, enhanced by those totally stupid cameras that make houses look all weird (realtors: for crying out loud, those are the DUMBEST things ever).  I thought, "How empty!"  

And that's what it is, I think.  


Yes, I admit.  I live in a mid-century house, not even 1/11th the size of yours.  I have the smallest house out of anyone I know.  I live in a city that I would trade in for pretty much any other on the planet (minus two I can think of off the top of my head).  l have to sit on the end of my bed and move my knees to open my dresser drawer to get to my pants.  It would be nice to not have to do that, obviously.  It would be a bonus if my backyard were as big as your living room so I could have chickens without my German Shepherd dog killing them.  It would be nice to have more than 22" of closet space.  It would be really nice if I could choose to use a different bathroom instead of the one the whole family uses since I think they secretly have a love of peeing all over everywhere except inside of the toilet.  

But you know what?  I wake up everyday to a family who loves me and I love them.  We have meals together and I cook all of those meals from scratch every single day, because that is what I love to do.  I garden in the spring and summer and we eat what I grow.  We do the dishes together, go for bike rides together, watch Jeopardy together, and do life together.  I get to raise my children.  My husband is a talented go-getter, with quirky things that make me love him more every day (plus, he's hot).  I don't want to trade my kids in for other ones (most of the time, unless they're peeing on the floor).  I don't have stupid amounts of bills.  I live simply and keep my house clean.  I don't even have cable TV or a smart phone.  I have a ten year old vehicle that I am happy with - because I don't find my identity in my car.  I have best friends who I could literally tell anything to (and have before) and they would still love me no matter what.  I have peace with my Maker (not because of what I've done, but because of what He's done).

Maybe you have all of that, too.  I really hope you do.  But I thought about what I would think if I lived in a house like yours.  I would start thinking that I would have to put on a really good show for people, I'd have to buy a Modigliani painting and put it in my living room, and those things are freakin expensive.  I'd have to have just the right kind of drawer pulls, because if I didn't, I'd have all this house that was supposed to be top-notch and here I was with horrible drawer pulls and that would be a tragedy.  I'd have to have 2,189 channels on my TV because if I didn't, people would wonder what the heck is up with me.  And if I didn't have heated tile floors in my bathroom, well, I'd just be a peasant.  

But, dude.  I now live without any of those things and I am happy and content and even joyful.  For me, I can have my entire day made by simply seeing sunshine through my kitchen window while I sip my organic black tea.  I can see that in every person there is something interesting, and as I walk past them or when I talk to them, I wonder what makes them tick.  They aren't a commodity, they aren't expendable, they aren't there to help me get from A to B, they're something amazing.  I'm not better than them and they're not better than me.  If I lived in your house, would I think to start comparing my awesomeness to their outward pathetic-ness?  I don't know.  I might be tempted.  

So, you know what?  Even though your house really is beautiful, I think I'm just fine where I am, even if I had an extra $2.4 million laying around.  Thanks for the tour, though.  I hope you sell it and find what you're looking for.  

Peace and love, 
Ms. Daisy

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