We took my parents to see the new house today. Since I know my mother and all of her quirks I had carefully prepared her for the house. I told her it was tiny, not because it is so very tiny, but because it is not large and my mother thinks any house smaller than hers (which is 3500 square feet) is TINY. The house is a hair larger than the one we have now but is organized differently. I made it sound like a shoe box. A shoe box with lovely floors.
My mother reacted perfectly. I heard her tell my dad (I was photographing the bathroom), " . . . she said it was small and it is, but it is so nice. So much nicer than I imagined, I can see why it feels like home to her. . ."
I admit that I am relieved that she liked it. It shouldn't matter but I want her to like it. I would actually prefer that she learn to love it and maybe she will someday.
The best part was that in my campaign to lower her expectations I lowered my own. I remembered the rooms as being smaller and darker than they really were. I could clearly picture every flaw in the house but forgot the high ceilings and bright natural light.
And it was all I could do not to get on the hands and knees licking those gorgeous floors.
God I hope I never get a Google hit for "woman licking floors." I am sure that is a fetish but I do not want to know.
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