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Dear 222 Elm St,
Oh, baby, how is it you are still on the market after two and a half years? You are large, beautiful, historic and $400K cheaper than your original asking price. I realize it's a nasty market, but I am surprised that you're still out there. I would have thought that at least some horrible person with no appreciation for your multitudinous charms would have snapped you up and unceremoniously gutted and restructured you into ghastly condos by now, like every other nearby house that once had your stature and magnificence. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy you haven't been. But I'm also saddened to know that no one's done the equivalent of fall madly in love with you and sweep you off to a wonderful happy life... or whatever passes for such if you're real estate. Believe me, I'd have you in a heartbeat if money were no object. I can just see the fabulous salons and soirées I'd throw deep within your cavernous Victorian era rooms. But one thing I wasn't gifted with in this lifetime is insane wealth, nor the power to generate anything like it. Ah, if only I had been, I'd willingly spend a lifetime curled in the embrace of your delicious curved window seats contemplating the comings and goings of Elm Street from your graceful apertures.
Some small part of my mind would love to think that maybe you're waiting... waiting to find the special person or people that will walk through your fiendishly elegant double doors and be enveloped by you, that you will do everything but whisper "Welcome Home" in their ears. An even smaller part of my brain that likes to believe in utterly impossible things entertains the fancy that just maybe the person you are waiting for is me. Who knows, maybe if I'd gotten my shit together and dared to dream and do a little harder when I first noticed you were available... but playing what if never got anyone anywhere, did it?
I do hope someday soon you'll find those perfect people to fill your rooms with joy and sorrow and purpose and just plain old life again. And I will always love you from afar, for you are a bloody fantastic grande dame of a house and if I gotta have one pipe dream (one that I'll publicly admit to anyway) I'm glad its you.
Love always,
Me
Oh, baby, how is it you are still on the market after two and a half years? You are large, beautiful, historic and $400K cheaper than your original asking price. I realize it's a nasty market, but I am surprised that you're still out there. I would have thought that at least some horrible person with no appreciation for your multitudinous charms would have snapped you up and unceremoniously gutted and restructured you into ghastly condos by now, like every other nearby house that once had your stature and magnificence. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy you haven't been. But I'm also saddened to know that no one's done the equivalent of fall madly in love with you and sweep you off to a wonderful happy life... or whatever passes for such if you're real estate. Believe me, I'd have you in a heartbeat if money were no object. I can just see the fabulous salons and soirées I'd throw deep within your cavernous Victorian era rooms. But one thing I wasn't gifted with in this lifetime is insane wealth, nor the power to generate anything like it. Ah, if only I had been, I'd willingly spend a lifetime curled in the embrace of your delicious curved window seats contemplating the comings and goings of Elm Street from your graceful apertures.
Some small part of my mind would love to think that maybe you're waiting... waiting to find the special person or people that will walk through your fiendishly elegant double doors and be enveloped by you, that you will do everything but whisper "Welcome Home" in their ears. An even smaller part of my brain that likes to believe in utterly impossible things entertains the fancy that just maybe the person you are waiting for is me. Who knows, maybe if I'd gotten my shit together and dared to dream and do a little harder when I first noticed you were available... but playing what if never got anyone anywhere, did it?
I do hope someday soon you'll find those perfect people to fill your rooms with joy and sorrow and purpose and just plain old life again. And I will always love you from afar, for you are a bloody fantastic grande dame of a house and if I gotta have one pipe dream (one that I'll publicly admit to anyway) I'm glad its you.
Love always,
Me
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