The Open House

It was weird on the inside, too.

Pictures have been changed to protect me from being sued. (Photo by Pascal Bernardon on Unsplash)

Somebody decided to build a house up the road from where I live, in the Village of… Let’s just say it’s a village. And you know how villages are. Staid, but quaint. Possessors of a very definite aesthetic. Lots of gazebos and Golden Retrievers. McMansions and retrofitted farmhouses with BMW’s in the driveway.

This house does not fit the village aesthetic, or any other aesthetic that I can figure out. It’s one story, with black cone-shaped lighting fixtures on the facade that shine both up AND down. Every time I pass it at night I think Grauman’s Chinese Theater is having a movie premiere. These lights can be seen from space.

The exterior is clad in some kind of futuristic, blindingly white siding, with raw wood slabs framing the doors and windows. A century-old barn hangs out to the side with the look of somebody who desperately wants to leave this party as soon as humanly possible.

Oh, and someone died when the house that previously occupied the lot burned to the ground. So there’s that.

After the house was mostly built, a giant flag appeared outside proclaiming OPEN HOUSE, which to normal people means, “This house is for sale. Enter here all ye potential home buyers.”