I will never understand the concept of dream houses. Maybe that's because I've only valued living spaces as a place to keep me and my stuff sheltered. I see all these commercials about people obsessing about their dream houses that it puzzles me. I just don't get it. Then again, I've never been one for fashion or design.
I will always play the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, but sometimes the prize is a car, which I don't care about. It's always for an SUV, and I don't need something that big. But then sometimes the prize is a dream house. They make me go through the motions of selecting what I want before I can be entered into the sweepstakes, and the whole time I'm thinking, dude, just give me the money.
Shelter for me and my stuff. That's all I need. If I was asked what I wanted, it would be a place with a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room and two bedrooms. One to be treated like a bedroom, the other to be my study. A simple apartment could give me these things. I'd never imagine calling it a dream house.
OK, I lied a little bit. When I was younger and naive I had a dream of one day moving back into my childhood home. I remember having a lot of fun there, but I gave up on that one. To be the only person living in that big of a house would be too decadent for my likes. I want to have rooms that I actually use, not something that I might look at if I'm bored or drunk some night.
In the past I've joked about buying a castle if I ever won the PCH sweepstakes, but look at Nic Cage. That didn't work out for him so well, did it? Did he even visit those castles? Probably not.
Wait. I take it back. I'll live in a library. Yes, my dream house is the greatest library since Alexandria. And only I get to live there, so you're out of luck, bud.
*sigh* Fine. You're invited. But you have to read the books here, okay? There will be no lending at my gosh darn library!
I have a card there
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