Saturday, July 22, 2006

My temporary stay in the land of manicured lawns, housewives driving their 2.2 kids in BMW’s and pristinely decorated four car garage houses, has opened my eyes to another world, one in which I do not belong nor feel comfortable. Last week I was told by a mother of two boys that she is glad her sons have had a chance to see how good they have it, based upon playing in the homes of their friends who don’t have basements and over-sized rooms. If this has “opened their eyes” they must have little understanding of how the rest of the world lives.

You see, for the past week I have been house sitting for dear family friends. They are generous loving people who live in the new expensive neighborhoods of my hometown. As I write this, their affectionate cat is sitting on the little of my lap that is not being taken up by my laptop and liking every inch of skin she can reach with out moving, while the dog lies lazily at my feet. The week has been for me what Bridget Jones would call “a mini-break”, filled with fun distractions that leave you momentarily forgetting that you will soon be facing real life again. A large house to my self, the family’s Passat available to me (while the Mercedes convertible sits idly in the garage) along with the rest of the entertaining options the house provides. However with all its fun potential, elegant décor and serene quietness, I feel totally out of place, like an agitated guest. I cannot live in a neighborhood where each house is devoid of personal pizzazz and its owners use riding lawn mowers to cover a pathetically under treed and extremely small yard while their kids play X-Box and talk with polite pity about their friends that don’t have basements.

My future house, if there is every to be one, will sure to be in a constant state of what I call organized-chaos. It shall scream of personal touches, interesting if not odd but working pieces of decoration. Most of all it shall be me space to be me in. People will feel warmth and not see pretentious décor upon entering. I want to live in a home where guests feel they can make tea and eat my secret stash of Oreos without having to ask and where color will lead the sense to explore the modest yet appropriately spaced rooms. I will have flowerbeds of vibrant colors with random weeds I refuse to pick just because I don’t feel like keeping up with them. Maybe this is saying more about who I want to be as a person rather then a semi-vague description of nonexistent home. But I will leave that up for you to decide…


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