I didn’t want to leave Chris’s house all weekend. For the first time in many years, Chris isn’t living in a
beatdown rigged-up shamble of a group house. As you may have guessed from the view, he’s renting a room in a gorgeous house up in the
I tend to discount a lot of the options a lot of money would bring me. For now, the combination of medium income and low demands gives me a very high quality of life. My house is little and just right; I don’t have to work long hours to support it. I don’t trust that expensive houses are worth working hard for; some are, but some are poorly-designed, wrong-scaled monstrosities. Some are beautiful, great spaces, but my sister and I have exactly the same reaction to a big house. We walk by those gorgeous old mansions and our shoulders sag at the thought of keeping one up. We haven’t internalized the notion of paying someone to do that, so just the thought of the work of a big house is a burden. (Remember that we grew up in a much bigger house than the ones we’re in now, although still no mansion. Not worth it.)
But Chris’s place reminded me that you could have a right-sized house, and for a lot of money it could have a view that always makes everything better. Money can buy access that kind of beauty. Oh man, tasteful money is so nice. I’ve seen that before, in
At Chris’s place nothing is ugly and you get a huge dose of beauty every time you look out. It was utterly compelling and I stayed and stayed. If I got used to it, I would start to covet and re-think trade-offs.