Monday, July 21, 2014

Open House

When I was a kid and my mom was giving birth every two years or so, my parents realized early on that the two bedroom home they had bought wasn't going to cut it. So every once in a while they'd pack us all in the car for a Sunday drive which always seemed to culminate in a visit to a new housing development. We would all pile out of the car and tramp through the model houses, oohing and aahing at the modern amenities, and smartly decorated dream homes. Each of us kids would quickly claim a bedroom just in case this was the house Dad would ultimately buy. In 1963 our model home shopping came to an end when Mom and Dad decided to buy one of the houses we had looked at. Not only did they buy a house from the developer, but they bought the  very model home we had looked at, furniture and all.

            I have carried on with that tradition of "window shopping" houses. I love going to open houses, especially in our neighborhood. It's fun to see the inside of neighbor's homes, to see just how they've been living. Most often what I see is that they live much better than I do. Mark on the other hand does not enjoy going to open houses. I'm not sure why, it's not like they don't want people in there. They've got signs all over the place begging us to come on in. Besides, I really enjoy the faces of the real estate people when that skinny black man walks in. I only wish we could bring along about a dozen little black kids.


  1. What is it about you and my girlfriend wanting to sneak around in other people's houses?! She goes to home shows, garden shows, anything-then asks to use the bathroom and snoops.

  2. Sneak, who sneaks? I snoop right out in the open. When my neighbors moved in on the corner (the ones with the gayby®) I had a nice discussion about their new home with them. I had walked through the open house and knew it better than they did. For some reason they didn't find my input helpful.