My parents and I went on a couple of beautiful walks today. As we drove there, and walked around various lakes, and drove back, the surrounding houses filled me with awe. They were massive-- who needs that much space, I thought? I hadn't seen houses that big in ages. Even though I grew up not far from all this, my house-size paradigm has clearly shifted.
My dad was also apparently thinking similar, if opposite, thoughts.
Dad: Is your house about the size of that one?
A.: It's maybe a third that size.
Pause
Dad: What about that one?
A.: Not even close.
Dad: I'm trying to pick the smallest houses.
We drove on, and there was no house to which mine came close.
We've had these conversations several times. My parents are still confused. I explain that such is the price of living in the city, but my mom takes that as an invitation to one-upsmanship and starts going on about how she's this close to these stores, those parks, all the buses into the city. Not to one up, but I try to explain that I actually need to be closer, and to the subway, not just to the buses, but again, she turns it into a competition, says buses are good enough. I don't want to argue, and besides, her temper has been relatively even this weekend so why fight about something stupid. Hopefully, I'm adequately preparing them for how small the house is, so that there are no surprises. And really, it's enough space for me.
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