I love my present home (my "Dream Home") and wouldn't move if I was offered a billion dollars for it. How 'bout that? I know, pretty stupid, huh. But what would I do with that money? I already have enough to support the lifestyle to which I am accustomed.
My Dream Home is just a 1500 sf 2/2 brick house built in 1965 on a 50x120 lot, with a detached garage, in a convenient, quiet, and unpretentious neighborhood. It's not elegant or perfect. But it's the home I have always wanted, and not only that, the mind-boggling truth is that it's immediately next door to Frank's home, just 20 feet away. Mine's the one on the left.
In the 7 years since I moved to this Dream Home, a simple dirt path gradually has been worn through the grass in the back yard, from his back door to mine.
Nothing could persuade me to abandon that wonderful feeling when I open my eyes each morning, and see my dream home all around me. And then, when F comes over a few minutes later with breakfast and coffee for me? I feel like I am in heaven.
In my view, my house is not just another investment. It's a framework for the rest of my life.