In House

I may have moved here because I fancied myself a surfer, or some other sort of free spirited vagabond. But, to face my current reality is to accept that my vocation is house building. While tourists created the environment that makes my living as sustainable and lucrative as it can be, it is my clients, the owners that I serve, and Thanksgiving is their week.

Owners of vacation homes visit often, and the lucky ones, usually those with some proficiency in accounting, spend a lot of time in their rental properties and second homes. But many visits, particularly for the rental owners are not missions of joy. The savvy owner of a larger, newer, home with a pool close to the ocean will be here around Easter. He will bring his indentured servants (family and chump friends) and while beer will be drunk, and the sun may peek through the clouds, there is little relaxation. The property must be readied. And these owners will be damned if they will suffer a $5 lightbulb, courtesy of their rental company, this early in the season. They will demand that their pool be opened, and heated. Their children, the only ones with any sense will refuse to swim in it. They might call me for a last minute repair, and by this time of year, I will be forced to explain as politely and succinctly as possible that this is a call I should have gotten two months prior. I will try to fit them in before Memorial Day.

Memorial day visits are for the lower stakes property owners. They've owned the house for years. They come to install screens, touch up a little paint, etc. Still they are serving a cruel master--the $$$.

Christmas is iffy because it is becoming a lucrative rental window. There are also all sorts of weird family dynamics with Christmas. Then there is New Years. Tough to keep the family together then. My client demographic tends to have kids that want to drink, but aren't quite old enough. Not an ideal age to spend New Years with mommy and daddy.

But Thanksgiving!! The blessed holiday of the owner--no--of the house. The beach is viewed through windows; it's cold. This could be the only time of year that the trim detail on the feature window that I agonized over might finally be noticed. Thanksgiving is the holiday of the fireplace surround and living room built-in. The focus is the house, my focus. Also, there is no real preparation. No high season looms. Enjoyment is possible. Maybe I'm going to remodel your beloved home. You've of course told me to hold off until after Thanksgiving. Vacation home owners use their houses like they are just that--houses. For one week they are no longer rental machines. They are homes, fulfilling the day dream that was envisioned amidst those long nights at the office paying for this beast!

For this one week owners treat their houses the same way the rest of us treat the houses we live in year round: A comfortable place to lay our head, a warm gathering place for the family we wish we didn't have to leave every day to support. For this one week, the fruit of my labor is divorced from the economics. Whenever I meet a client and they assert that they are going to treat their home as an investment, and not let emotion get in the way I'm torn. Half of me wants to punch them in the face and tell them they are full of shit! I've not seen anyone pull that off. Something about being human makes us see something that looks like a house very differently than say a security comprised of a bundle of home mortgages. The last time you told your broker to buy JP Morgan, you didn't spend three hours on the phone wondering if the accent tile you picked for JP Morgan's backsplash would compliment your granite selection. The other half of me wants to punch myself in the face. Why did I decide to build houses. I'm tired of talking for hours with people about the merits of eggshell versus satin.

I don't want to punch anyone on Thanksgiving though! Because houses aren't for bragging rights. They aren't about impressing their neighbors. They are mostly dry warm boxes designed for holding families and friends. My whole little town seems to be about something more pure and enjoyable than it is for the rest of the year.

Of course, when living on a margin like this you can never escape the irony. Nothing embodies an American Thanksgiving like eating more food than you need to eat, followed by sleeping in a house so big that you don't even remember what some of the rooms look like, overlooking a pool in which you've yet to swim. Makes you want to hug a pilgrim!