My husband’s goddaughter spent the weekend with us. We ordered pizza, ate lots and lots of candy, watched Akeelah and the Bee on Friday and a comedy on Saturday and stayed up until sleep took us down.
When I was a kid I loved spending weekends with my older cousin. She moved in with us for college and she’d take us on her dates, to picnics, volunteer activities and all sorts of ‘grownup’ stuff. When she got married I’d pack my weekend bag and call to tell her I’d be over. I’m happy to now have a kid in my life and hopefully I can be the same type of adult to her as my cousin has been to me.
On Sunday after church we dropped the goddaughter off and headed to Pinks. We would have taken her with us, but that would have required too much backtracking. After our patio lunch at Pink’s, I was ready for a nap.
On our way home, I asked hubster if we could go into the gated community near our neighborhood. Hubster reminded me that the gates might prevent us. I asked if we could at least try, he said we could. As we’re driving by we notice an ‘open house’ sign outside the gates.
Yipppee, the gates have opened for us. For the curious we were not looking to buy, we were looking to look. I like looking at houses I can’t afford yet. It inspires me to afford them. Husband didn’t want to go in the house but I remind him that this is a rare opportunity to be nosey and see what a house in that community looks like. These aren’t track homes, they were designed by architects so each is unique, but the lots and home sizes are all pretty uniform.
The community has mature trees surrounding it, so as much as I have peeked, I’ve never been able to glimpse what the houses looked like.
We park and enter.
The house was a bit intimidating. There was so much too it. I mean who could live in such a humongous house?
The house was also in pretty bad shape, it made us think of the “Money Pit.” The owners did nothing to make it show better. The pink carpets were stained, the green paint on the walls dirty and old. It had a servants quarter wing at the rear of the house. It had a staircase in the kitchen that seemed ready to collapse.
The owners weren’t broke nor highly leveraged. The house was owned by a country. They must have lacked a desire to maintain the place and are not in a hurry to sell.
Husband and I walked up the set of stairs located in the kitchen. The house had at least 3 sets of stairs indoors and outside. There were a few doors and paths I refused to venture into because I was fearful of where we’d end up. The place would be great for a scary movie, it was large with many twists, turns and connecting halls.
We entered an upstairs bedroom that overlooked the pool, I looked out the window and told husband excitedly, “there’s a black woman!” He glanced out the window. “Is that Ang.ela Bas.sett?” I asked. I was half way serious, eventhough it didn’t look like the movie star. Hubster chuckles and looks out the window again. Perhaps feeling eyes on her the woman looks up an into the window and . . . gasp, it is Ang.ela Bas.sett.
Husband tells me I have a good eye and I’m wishing I had my camera phone. She was wearing eye glasses and had on her long hair. She had on a long sleeve shirt and a straight skirt that went a little past her knees. She wasn’t skinny like I expected, and she didn’t seem super muscular. She was normal.
Husband and I finished walking through the house and head down the main stairs. We turn back to look at the rooms we missed and come across the elevator. Hubster wants to take it. The elevator is one of those contraptions that moves between the floors. ( not the kind that glides along the wall or on a staircase, like many in home elevators) It has a wrought irongate. My fear was that our combined weight might make it fall. This is the Money Pit house.
We check and the capacity is 450lbs, we’re under that. We step in, I ask hubby if he has his cell so we can call for help it if gets stuck and he confirms that he does. He shuts the gate, hits the button, I lay my head on his chest and squeeze my arms around his upper torso.
The elevator takes a pretty rough start.
I relax. If I’m going die, I will at least be in his arms. (I know I’m dramatic and scary) We touch the bottom, my eyes are still closed and my face is still in husband’s chest. I hear a squeal.
“Cour.tney, Cour.tney, this house has an elevator!! Someone is in it. OUUHUUHOHOU, ya’ll are crazy, that thing could have crashed. You don’t know anything about that elevator.”
“We saw someone take it first.” I said to Ms. Bass.ett, thinking to myself, Cour.tney Va.nce is here too. Cour.tney rounds the corner and we all chat briefly.
I’m waving and cheesing and pulling husbands arm and hubster say’s, “I hate to be fan like, but we are, we’re fans.” So we all shake hands and then Mr. Vance and hubster are chatting and Vance tells us to tie the house up.
The asking on this house is far over 3 million. Hubster tells him that we live around the corner and passed by and saw the open house sign, we aren’t buying. After hearing we’re married Mr. Van.ce tells us we’re beautiful. Hubster tells him to buy it and he tells us that they live across the street. He tells us which house is they live in.
What I learned- There are famous millionaire couples that spend their Sundays just like us.
That house was far too big for us, but it was designed well. I think we could be okay living in a mansion in L.A. I’d have to put bells on our kids so we wouldn’t lose them. We didn’t like that house but we liked the area and have added it to the list of places we will consider living (when we hit 7 figures). I’d need a couple dogs if I lived in something that large and I would certainly need a fulltime housekeeper. How could I clean that much house?
Mansion Note: The house we looked at had over 8000 sq ft of living space. That # does not include the servant’s quarters, kitchen, and back part of house. It was not a Mcmansion.