The Prospective Homeowner

 
My house is already built.

I've seen it, inside and out, and it's beautiful. In the early morning of the spring, sunlight bleeds through the soft curtains that are a color of blue I have never seen before. The light gathers in pools on the glamorously red carpet, which, despite being quite lovely, is far too flashy for my tastes. I will probably rip it out and have it replaced by a more sterile gray color.

In the evenings when you sit on the porch, so long as it isn't overcast you can see just about every star in the sky. Oftentimes this results in a stiff neck, but the heating pad in the upstairs medicine cabinet takes care of that in a jiffy every time. Quality stuff, that heating pad.

And if you're a light sleeper? Not even a single worry. In the winter the whole area is deadly silent until people start getting up for work in the morning, and during the summer the crickets and katydids are fantastic at lulling one to sleep. And don't even get me started on the beds. Whatever they are, I'm keeping them, because when I wake up in the morning I always have the loveliest restful feeling.

The yard is full of small gardens along the property lines. In the spring you can watch the buds open day by day, the vibrancy of the environment growing much like the young blossoms that contribute to it. Having viewed their vivid colorings through my high-powered binoculars, I can safely say that the soil mixture here must be exquisite.

In short, this house, this yard, this neighborhood: all perfect. It's pretty much a dream home. Like I said, my house is already built.

If only those people would hurry up and move out already...
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Billy Joel, New York State of Mind