Each Home Is a Dream

Sunday, Sept. 5, 2016 — The drive into Ormond Beach along old Dixie Highway was sunny and fine, with a sky as clear blue as a bolt of cerulean cotton.

A distinctly north Florida mix of dwarf palms and stately trees hung with Spanish moss shrouded the road. The dappled drive passed mansions that look like assisted living facilities for the seriously wealthy (never a nursing home for Daddy Sawbucks) next to old cinder block homes from the Fifties and Sixties with louvered windows.

Each home I see is a dream.

A MidCentury Modern on the barrier island between the Intracoastal Waterway and the Atlantic Oceans is a dream of being a deep pocketed flipper. It’s not habitable, but at $99K, someone who can pay cash is going to walk away with a few hundred thousand in profit.

The structure looked solid, unless there are unseen expensive problems such as mold. Even that can be cleaned up and a profit cleared at less than $100 thousand at that location. The interior had been mostly dismantled.

The home was built high and drive, well above sea level with pool and two-car garage snugly hidden in back.

What I could do with a MidCentury Modern with my knowledge and eye for that period.

The two-story with the large fenced yard has visions of my Doberman dancing in my head.   The Intracoastal and the sleepy downtown are a walk away.

An older, cozy cottage on a less enticing street has me fantasizing about living a Bohemian life in digs that artfully conceal its defects. That one will take a bit of making silk purses out of sow’s ears.

A tiny old 1920s house is crammed onto a small lot next door to the parking lot for an apartment building. The lot is empty where it adjoins the postage stamp yard, and the neighborhood is quiet. Will it be quiet during the week when the children’s center up the block is open for business?

Could I build a rooftop patio on the garage? Heaven! A place to catch the breezes from the Intracoastal. Would zoning allow a spiral staircase to a lookout platform to see the water?

My life splinters into parallel fantasies when I consider possibilities for my next home. Each is a dream, fleeting, and only one to be manifest.

How do I discover the dao for this dame and her Doberman?