Keeping up with the Joneses in this neighborhood could be an expensive game. Having never read “The Millionaire Next Door” I hope that the Joneses naturally assume that my lack of conspicuous consumption implies millionairedom.
We live in one of the least expensive homes in the neighborhood, but contractors still give us the “you live in a rich neighborhood” prices when they pull up to the door past all the half million dollar and up homes.
We were invited to a brunch in the ‘hood the other day, and I was struck by how pleasant our hosts’ home was. A separate area for kids and play, I couldn’t help but be struck by the play house that was in the game room. It was a full-on wooden home, built to exacting standards with working doors, doorbell and plastic roof shingles. Compare this to the puppet theater I made out of a cardboard box and a few zip-ties.
The brunch was delightful – a progression from the gourmet kitchen island the size of Madagascar, to the expansive dining room, followed by drinks in the well appointed living room. All in all, a great use of both the space and the top notch furniture.
Our mortgage is low, that’s all I’ll say, so that while I don’t feel house poor, I just sometimes feel relatively poor. Notice the word relatively. “Oh, boo hoo, Ron doesn’t have granite counters”, I hear you saying. I’m not complaining – have you ever tried getting red wine stains out of a quartz or marble counter top, yelling to everyone around you, “THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS!”?
While I’m trying to be enlightened by my apparent wealth and the Joneses’, it doesn’t mean I don’t notice it. I wonder what the Joneses will think when they visit? How ridiculous is that?