The Fanatisizing Life
A friend picked up a book for me while she was away for the holidays, tramping through antique shops in another part of the country. She paid a mere pittance for it but she thought I might enjoy it, given my love of all things French and all things food.
The book itself is just another ‘we moved to France to buy and renovate a sixteenth century house that had fallen into decrepitude and here’s what we found’ story published in 1986. Not that long ago. But, the great thing about books like these is that I immediately envision myself doing the same thing.
I read a few tens of pages into the story and then go off googling real estate searches for my own renovation possibilities. I request the searches in order of least expensive to most expensive and don’t limit my number of Euros or my style of home. You see, I must be able to fantasize at all levels.
My Dordogne search started with land prices at 16,000 Euros. I’m now up to page 4 with old stone farmhouses under 200,000 Euros.
The fun thing about it is that I have no money, or savings, or even income, so it’s all just a fantasizing thing for me. Three years or so ago, when I was working a real job, instead of producing a non-income producing web site, I had a fascination with Provence (and I still do … sigh). So I spent my minutes in between software tests googling for real estate there, and because I was working with a steady income, I set my sights on chateaux and run down Romanesque castles that needed tender loving care.
I keep thinking that one day my social and economic status will change and I’ll have the opportunity to take my pick of these homes that I so often fantasize about.
One can dream, right?
