Putting It Out into The Universe

It can't hurt, right? So here goes:  The EGE thinks the skanky, cat-killing neighbors have moved out of the house next door. I don't believe it because that little dump has been in their family for generations--five generations have lived there in the 21 years we've been here. But they did load a lot of stuff into a U-Haul, and the two air conditioners are gone. So they may have left.


That would be a good thing.


The bad thing would be if it went up for sale and was bought by someone with loud dogs or little kids. I shudder to think about what it would be like if someone lived there and, oh, just for instance:  kept their nieces and nephews during the day. Little kids playing in the backyard, yelling and squealing just yards from the room where I work. Barking dogs. Music.


I shudder.


Here's what I'm putting out into the universe: if that house is, indeed, for sale, I want it. I don't have to own it, although that would be nice. I am, after all, a free-lance writer, and "buying real estate," for me, would mean going to Lowe's and purchasing a bag of potting soil. You know? For years, though, The EGE has talked about that house, saying what an excellent place that would be for workshops. There's no telling what the inside is like--I'm guessing it would have to be gutted. Or even hauled away and a new structure built. But the idea! A couple small bedrooms, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen--and then a nice, big, light-filled workroom with tables and a sink for washing paint brushes and outlets for sewing machines. I have no idea if I'm right, but I would think instructors who don't have a whole lot of teaching opportunities in the winter would love to come here for small workshops. I'm not the one to make that happen, as I know nothing about organizing. I do have contacts, though--I'd be the make-the-connections person; someone else would be the marketing/organizing/everything else person. Sure, Midland is not a hotbed of cultural activity. There's nothing to do here, no place to shop. But! There's this: today it's supposed to be 71 degrees. I don't know if it will make it: it's only 52 now, but it's been in the 60's the last couple days. Surely that would be a draw, right? Leave the frozen tundra and spend a couple days wearing your shorts and flipflops? After the workshops, people could sit in the backyard and have a glass of wine--I know how to set up an outdoor space that's toasty almost every day. A chiminea on a back patio for early morning coffee--oh, the possibilities!


Ah, well. It's a dream. Like I said, I don't even believe they're gone. There's no for-sale sign. But here's my dream:  someone with money they need to invest in something would go find out if it's for sale, make an offer, buy it, fix it up. There's a ton of money in this town; I like to think someone would love the idea. I would be their idea person, suggesting instructors and workshops and possibilities. People would come, art would be made, joy would abound. Oh, sure, there are things like zoning and insurance and all of that. But this person would know about all that.


And when no workshops were scheduled? I'd have a key and would use it for yoga at night, alone in a room where no cats would leap on me in the middle of yoga nidra. Now *that's* a dream.


It never hurts to dream.