Neither Marlboro Man nor I has any desire ever to build a new house. Gutting and re-doing The Lodge a few years ago completely satisfied, probably for a lifetime, any urge either of us might have had to take on a huge home improvement project. Plus, we love where we live, which is the house in which Marlboro Man grew up. It’s older, of course, and will probably always need a little attention here and there. The roof is next. After that, I’ll likely spend some time chipping all the dried noodles off our kitchen ceiling and touch up the paint a bit. I should also eventually replace the kitchen cabinet door that fell off in 2005. But I’m used to it being gone, and I’d have to get used to having it on again, and who has that amount of time in a day?
My point is, while there are things Marlboro Man and I would love to do in the future, building a new house for ourselves just isn’t one of them.
Now, building a new barn? That would be exciting.
I can’t believe I just said that.
Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this is that when I went feeding with Marlboro Man the other day, he actually took me to a spot I’d never, in all the years I’ve lived on the ranch, been before.
This was exciting in itself, but then I made Marlboro Man stop the feed truck so I could get out and stare.
I was in awe. There, right before my eyes, was my new favorite spot on earth. Although I’d seen these same pastures from a different perspectives, this view was one I’d never, ever seen before on all the feed routes I’d gone on with Marlboro Man. It’s a view that’s pristine, and pure, and unadulterated. Hardly any sign of telephone poles…no buildings…no roads. No indication of what decade—or even what century—it is.
And it’s 3/4 of a mile from our house, albeit through some pretty rocky terrain.
“Oh my gosh, honey,” I exclaimed. “This is IT! This is where we can build our dream house!”
“What dream house would that be?” Marlboro Man asked. “The one we said we’d never in a million years want to build?”
I laughed. I suddenly remembered. The plumbing. The septic tank. The flooring. The switchplate covers I had to use precious brain cells to pick out. Where to put the electrical outlets. Where to put the heating/air conditioning units. I’d so much rather plant potatoes.
I shuddered violently. Then I came to my senses.
“Ugh, you’re right,” I said. “Never mind.”
Marlboro Man laughed.
“So instead, we can just move our house to this spot!” I continued. “People move houses all the time, and we really need to get away from all the hustle-bustle of where we live now.”
“And what hustle-bustle is that?” my spouse asked.
“Oh, you know—just the whole rat race of where we live,” I lamented.
“Uh, huh,” Marlboro Man remarked. “You do realize the TV crew just left, right? I think you might just be feeling a little tired.”
“No, I’m talking about our everyday lives—there’s just too much stuff going on over there,” I said, describing a location less than a mile from where we stood.
“There’s way too much traffic…” (Translation: Josh drives through in his feed truck.)
“Way too many drop-ins…” (Translation: The Orkin man stops by every two weeks.)
“Way too many people…” (Translation: We have four kids.)
“Basically, I’ve just got to get away from all the craziness,” I summarized. “We need to bring up the children in a quieter, more peaceful place.
“Okie doke,” Marlboro Man said. “I’ll go get the backhoe and you can help me run the lines for the septic tank.”
“Never mind,” I said. “I like where we live now.”
Then we went home and ate some eggs.