House

Last summer I decided to build a house in my head. To make the prospect of construction less daunting, I began with my living room where I expected to spend most of my time, and resolved that I'd create additional rooms only as needed. I started with walls, leaving holes for windows and views, and then I spread the ceiling over top while hot and malleable. Because you can't build a house mid-air I figured the floor was implied and left it at that. The front door turned out to be a big production because none that I could dream up fit quite right. In a moment of genius I announced a casting call and cast a strong, broad man to play the part.

I arranged in the room the things you might expect: a sofa, chairs, a coffee table, lamps and shelves. Since I've had so much first hand experience with these kinds of items in real life, my imagined versions were impressively life-like. You might be hard pressed to tell my furniture from the real thing. Decorating was the real fun. I hung paintings that I've always admired, as well as several works of art that I have plans to make one day. The place felt cozy and warm when I was through and I was pleased with myself.

At this point I was thinking of myself as a gifted architect, craftsman and interior decorator so I sat down, content, and I relaxed. But before I could exhale my home's first deep breath my door-man's heart began to beat loudly. No, there was someone on my porch, someone was knocking on his chest. I looked over at him with a nervous curiosity but he just stood there silent and stoic, keeping the inside from the outside and vice versa. After a few hesitations, I stood up and asked that he kindly step aside. He obeyed and revealed us to each other. Because you looked especially harmless standing in the threshold next to my hunky door I thought it alright to invite you in. You came right in and took a seat in one of my life-like wooden chairs. I looked around with the fresh perspective you brought as a house warming gift and I saw the complete picture of my house for the first time. Doing this made me feel extremely insecure and I was relieved when you seemed interested in my coffee table. "I made it myself," I said as I sat down across from you. "I know" you said, "It's very convincing."

We spent the rest of the afternoon not moving from our seats, playing with the objects I had strategically left out on the table in the hopeful anticipation of your visit. I couldn't feed you because I didn't have a kitchen so you left in the early evening. That night I started construction on the kitchen and drew out plans for a bedroom.