My favorite dream over the last year has died. I had a lottery fantasy that I could buy this wonderful 90 acre spread on the west side of town (well, just past the city limits), and make my own farm life there. It would have only taken 6.4 million for the property, a couple million to modify the house, another couple to landscape and plant it, and then an ungodly amount every year in taxes. No problem, right? Well, oddly enough, at no time over the last year did that many millions of dollars fall into my lap. I can't imagine why. This afternoon, while we were on a pleasant drive through the country, I was asked to open the realtor app, and look up someplace we passed. I then looked at the one place I had favorited, and for the first time in a year, the status had changed from for sale to pending. Alas, someone who could actually afford a multi-million dollar ranch got to it before I could.
I'm winding down after an active day of babysitting. The kids were running us ragged again today. There were shenanigans and hijinks galore. V has created her own games on the slide, where she's actually falling down a slope and getting rescued. Unfortunately her brother doesn't have the fully developed imagination she does, and he just wanted to slide down and immediately run around and get up as fast as possible to do it again. Taking them in the car to try and fail to find a car part at the Ford dealer in Loveland gave each kid about a 30 minute nap, which only served to supercharge them when they got home.
I suppose it is time to go to bed. But without my favorite creative visualization, I find I have to build a new farmhouse in my mind. I don't think there are any more 90 acre parcels near here to dream of, but I can still pretend.
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