Why is my real estate imaginary estate?

I am back, officially and with sad finality, from vacation. I used every last day, but I think that's as it should be.

I have come home from Oregon with pretty serious house envy. I hear yoga is supposed to help this kind of condition. I will consider it with the tiny bit of my brain that is not devoted to coveting the property of others.

In Portland, Ben and Stephanie have a very charming little house (which I think is officially meant to be called a bungalo, but as I do not know what really defines a bungalo, I will stick with "house") in a neighborhood overflowing with charming houses. They are currently living with a kitchen-in-progress, which creates a certain level of general discombobulation, but it will be lovely and bright and inspiring when it's finished. The fancy new refrigerator did arrive on the same day that I did and there was much rejoicing and drinking of cold beverages. Some of those beverages were consumed in the back yard because, well, they have a back yard. In back of their house. That they own. Yeah.

Fortunately, I had some practice with house envy before I visited Corvallis where Anne and Peter seem to have acquired a vast, sunny, beautiful house with a back yard of astonishing size. Had I not had practice, I might have gone into some sort of house-envy seizure and required costly emergency care. They seem to have five bedrooms, but they also have a full apartment over the garage, so if you visit them you could just stay there. That way, if you want to cook your own food, you can. However, I think I'd rather eat with Anne and Peter since their dining room is adjacent to the sun room from which there is a lovely view of the, ahem, grounds. I told Anne that my new mantra was going to have to be "I don't want to live in Corvallis. I don't want to live in Corvallis." Maybe I can incorporate that into the yoga. We'll see.