My Old Farm House
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Itís everybodyís dream to buy an old farmhouse. A century-old country homestead with a few acres for horses, a small pond to fish in, and nothing but peace and quiet, conveniently located within a reasonable distance to a major shopping mall, grocery stores, and movie theatres, so you can ďget awayĒ from your getaway.

I made that dream a reality a month ago, and moved into a 115-year-old Acadian-style home on five acres. I have two ponds so clear you can see the fish swimming. Thereís a horse stall in the barn, and a large stone fireplace in the living room. The ceilings are 12 feet high. The floors are hardwood.

Itís my dream and everything, but I was wondering about something. Is it too late to change my dream, or insert a few addendums? Gosh, I hope not.

  
 
My dream house should be ready to live in, and updated with all modern conveniences. The kitchen wouldnít have sloping floors, the lighting would be terrific. The walls painted in light colors, not slathered in brown tones that should never have been created in the first place. Iím sure nobody put gaudy wallpaper on half the walls because they knew it would come off one day, and they wouldnít want to bother anyone with all that work.

Did I mention the snakes? My dream house doesnít have Copperheads guarding the ponds, or Rattlesnakes hiding in the yard. You can actually walk around the ponds, instead of hopping from bare patch to bare patch, hoping that stick is a stick, and not a water moccasin.

It makes for a great story, but getting bit by a rattlesnake isnít practical for me. It doesnít fit in my schedule to run screaming to the car and drive frantically for 45 miles to the nearest hospital. (At least I know Iíll have a police escort; the closest freeway is closely monitored by a highway patrolman looking for a promotion. He didnít care that I was moving and in a major hurry. He gave me the ticket anyway.)

And what about all this peace and quiet I longed for most of my adult life? Did I consider that pizza delivery guys donít come this far? And who did I think was going to mow these five acres anyway? Didnít I realize how large they made houses a century ago? Thereís no time to sit by the pond and ponder when Iím cleaning the likes of The Empire State Building!

I guess itís the classic case of, ďBe careful for what you wish for. You just might get it.Ē

If anyone knows of a studio apartment in the city, maintenance free and close to everything, let me know, will you? If I donít answer the phone right away, leave a message. Iím probably outside mowing.

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