I found myself in a farmhouse sitting atop a hill with a dirt drive leading down to the road. Inside the house were several of my friends.
They were seated on a circular couch set around a coffee table in one of the downstairs living rooms. The woman who owned it, who’d earlier that year tried to clumsily seduce me, was holding court. She winked as I walked up and acknowledged me in conversation.
“I was just telling everyone that I need to move out of his house,” she said. “How would you like to own it.”
“How much,” I asked.
“Pick up the payments,” she said. “It’s $60 a month more than what you’re paying for your current apartment.”
“You even get the cufflinks in the barn,” said one of the men sitting on the couch.
I looked out to the barn. It was largely just a frame with a roof. The walls were mostly non-existent. In addition to the barn, there were three sheds on the property.
“And the sheds,” I said, a bit confused. It seemed an awful lot to upgrade from a single-bedroom apartment to a farmhouse with four outbuildings for just $60 a month more.
“Everything,” the woman said. “Yard, too.”
“I’ll take it,” I told her.
“Good … you need to move in, in two weeks,” she said.
My first thought was that I didn’t have the possessions to fill the house. I started exploring the downstairs and found that each door led to a room with two or more doors in it. Those doors opened into different rooms, some with windows, some full of antiques. The one thing they had in common was more doors.
I went back to the main part of the ground floor and walked outside and into the barn, looking for the cufflinks. The barn had wooden stairs leading to an upstairs. There was a massive wooden table in the middle of the barn covered in building plans, pencils, and drafting tools. It was illuminated by a powerful light hanging above it.
Didn’t find the cufflinks.
Back inside and upstairs, the woman tossed a scarf at me and laughed at me. I got the feeling she wanted a sticky fumble to seal the deal, or at least a wet, sloppy kiss. I nearly gave it to her, but at the last second my eye was caught by a hallway. It led down the center of the house, with doors on each side, and ending in a circular staircase that connected the ground floor to the third floor.
The ground floor was a bathing room with a Jacuzzi and a claw-foot tub.
“There’s another of those upstairs,” the woman, who’d been following me, said.
Then I noticed that the people who’d been downstairs were wandering the house, too. I felt a tinge of anger of any homeowner who discovers guests wandering around the private parts of a house uninvited, but realized I didn’t live there yet.
I realized with some satisfaction that for the first time in my life I’d be able to tell someone, “Get off my property.”
At that moment, I looked out the window and saw a camper parked in the backyard, the geezers traveling in it starting to step onto my backyard, and smiled.