Life in the big house

An ordinary day here in the Southwestern United States. Didn’t do anything too exciting — grocery store, tidying up, that sort of thing. My big project was to organize all my loose recipes. Mission accomplished; but at this rate I’ll have all those little tasks done by the end of May, and then what will I do with my time?

It’s hot here. Big temperatures. Big everything down here — big traffic. Big city. Big schools. Big cars. Big fascination with sports.

And a big house. The neighborhoods are huge, and they’re all full of big houses. Really big. Ours is no exception. It’s really lovely; it’s pretty in a very glamorous sort of way. So it’s very different for us. We’ve always lived in historic homes; houses built before 1920, with very typical old-house architectural details — hardwood floors, woodwork, built-ins. That was our style.

Now we live in suburbia, in a Sopranos-style house. We looked condescendingly at one of Gary’s high school acquaintances who lived in such a house, and now I guess the shoe is on the other foot. Two-story vaulted ceiling in the foyer and family room. A very grand curved staircase leading to the second floor. A second-story game room for the kids. Modern kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Huge master suite with giant walk-in closet and luxurious bathroom. Backyard with a pool.

It’s a great house — I’m very comfortable living here. And there is no basement. When we were looking at houses we wanted a certain number of rooms — four bedrooms, computer room/guest room, living room, dining room. Once it all came together, it was what it was — room that we needed to live. But sometimes it does seem excessive. And I am slightly less comfortable when relatives or friends from Lafayette are here. They all comment on how big it is, how much it would have cost back where they came from … I suppose they are waiting for me to confirm, but all I can say is real estate is cheaper here.

The only thing that isn’t big here is the yard. It’s just too warm here to have a giant yard. And even those with small yards hire help; when you factor in the commute time, there is just no time for yard work.

This is our reality. I’m wondering, still, how much I have in common with my neighbors. I haven’t bonded with anyone yet. It likely just takes time. I’m going to the neighborhood monthly Ladies Night tomorrow; surely someone there will be friendly and up for a new acquaintance. I don’t have to feel self-conscious around these women; they all live in the same type of house, same neighborhood.

And just when I’m feeling funny about so much space, I run across an article where Kenny Rogers says they are scaling back their new house — they don’t want to live with such excessive affluence, so they are down to 11,000 sf … on the main floor.

Suddenly I don’t feel so hedonistic after all.