Dream Home?

This isn’t my dream home. I’m not sure what I’d do with six kitchens and twelve toilets, apart from endless cleaning [can you imagine the mess the kids could make?]. I know for certain that I’d feel weird sending guests to the guest’s quarters – sorry I only have six kitchens and twelve toilets I couldn’t possibly share. Two swimming pools also seems a little excessive as well. But each to their own, maybe they really really like cleaning pools. I’m not exactly sure what my dream house would look like. It would, however, have a really nice laundry. Sounds strange I know, but I grew up in a house that had a large laundry room, complete with a copper for boiling the sheets (which we never used, the copper that is) so I’ve always liked the idea of a spacious laundry. I think I’d also have a cat litter room, so I could have the three (one per cat) +1 litter boxes that apparently you are supposed to have and not have to worry about tripping over cat litter boxes all the time.

What would be in your perfect house and why? (money is no object, I expect that I will never have a cat litter room but that doesn’t stop me wishing). Go wild.

Categories: Life

14 replies

  1. Since reading The Twenty-one Balloons as a child, and growing up in Townsville with oppressive heat for 9 months of the year, I have wanted a bedroom with sliding doors in the roof and the bed on a hydraulic platform to raise you through the opening. Of course these days the bed would come with auditory commentary function so some smartypuss could tell me about the stars as I lay there looking at them. A rooftop bath would be excellent too.

  2. A gobsmackingly huge personal library.

  3. I want a hall. Preferably a ballroom with gallery and stage. The gallery can be my library, but the ballroom floor has to be wood, polished or whatever so that it is a great dance floor…
    Failing that, I need a practice room 😛

  4. My perfect home would be one I could live in on humane terms encompassing fundamental human rights principles which enshrine the concept of ‘home’, as opposed to terms which uphold some over-privileged knob’s right to profit from said concept.
    I’d like to be able to hang my kid’s artwork on the walls, I’d like to not have property managers half my age snooping through my stuff every 3 months (because people who don’t own property must be destructive slobs) and I’d like a guarantee that I can’t be kicked out of my home with 60 days notice and then be at the mercy of an industry which sees me as less than human. I’d like more stability for my family than that.

  5. I must be very tired, because I read that first sentence as a home with six kittens and twelve bathrooms, and in a bit of a haze wondered what the issue was with having six kittens.
    I second the library thought. Probably I’d like it set up as a study, with a big table for writing at, and big comfy chairs for sitting in. Preferably with a bay window and a window seat.
    Linda Radfem, ‘though we have our own home at present, we have from time to time over the last few years rented a house for a while, mostly while in transition. I hated the insecurity, and not being able to hang up artwork too. We did have a bit of success with one landlord who was happy for us to put up a pinboard, but that was unusual.

  6. The most important feature of my dream house (after disabled access) is a full-time housekeeper to take care of it and me. Fittings and furniture hand-crafted from natural materials to last a lifetime, big kitchen garden and energy efficiency measures to make it as energy/resource independent as possible. My great-grandmother lived in a beautiful 30’s home with a big formal dining room that is probably most like my dream home, though the Huf Haus with an entirely photovoltaic roof is growing on me, and there’s a farm on the top of a mountain in South Wales where I’d want to build it. (The farm would of course pay for the housekeeper!). In terms of incidentals, I want an Everhot cooker, formal dining room and a big personal office/study/library.

  7. My perfect home, to start off with, would have to be my home. I’ve only ever rented and I envy people like my parents who own their own houses, which they can do whatever they like with. I’ve never bothered decorating my house because well, it’s not really mine. All I’d be doing would be adding value to a house for someone else (my landlord).
    Aside from that, I’m not asking much. I’d like a garden with grass (we have patio at the moment) so I could put a paddling pool out for Orion without worrying about him knocking himself out. I’d like a bath tub (we only have a shower in this place). I’d like a place to put a dining table so we could have family dinners around the table. I don’t think there’s much more than that. 🙂

  8. Big airy bedroom with good climate control and a remote-controlled way of letting in either lots or very little natural light. Bedroom surrounded by garden beds. Huge king-size bed. Safe streets, close to a school and a library. Fast internet. And I think I’d like an accessible deep-water spa bath, and the requisite rainfall/rainwater tank/solar panels to supply it. Working off a pretty small sample size, I’m fairly sure regular deep warm-water immersion eases some of my CFS symptoms a little.
    I have nearly half of these things in our current house. Which makes me happy.

  9. My dream home is the tin shack I grew up in.
    I am not fooling. I LOVE my childhood home, so much. I might make a few modifications (like adding insulation), but it’s the place I dream of when I dream I am at home. I actually tried to buy it a few years ago, but our old landlord refused to sell.

  10. A music room. A studio. Either together or separate. A beautiful garden. A cosy living room. A sweet little traditional kitchen that isn’t too hard to clean. A nice shed to potter around in. A patio to watch the sun set underneath. A verandah to sit on and shoot the shit with friends. A bathroom with an actual bath in it so I can soak contentedly. Enough room for pets and children.
    And easy-to-clean floors.
    I don’t want much.

  11. I’d like self-cleaning floors.

  12. I want Noel-Cowardesque French windows opening onto a terrace with stairs that lead down to a grove of trees. A feature of many Australian designed houses that I love is a kind of blending of indoor into outdoor space. You don’t look through a door onto a courtyard, the back wall opens up to become part of the courtyard. My partner designed a house that had sort of double, parallel beams in the verandah roof that made you think of both Japanese houses and ships, and following the beams drew your eye to the view of the mountain beyond. That was fab.
    Of course, there are some days when I just want to live in Hogwart’s.

  13. Made of stone. With a glass tower with a spa in it (and 360 degree views). Bathroom entirely encased in toughened glass so it can be hosed down to clean it.
    Long narrow lap pool. A slide from the second storey to the ground. Just in case I want to slide down it. A chandelier in the kitchen. Polished concrete kitchen benches. A red velvet couch in the kitchen.
    Two storey library with massive ladders.
    Large pack of pugs. Siamese cats.
    Massive kitchen garden. Orchard. Chickens. A Jersey cow. Bee hives.
    A moat, and a wall with merlons in case I want to shoot at intruders with arrows.
    And entirely off the grid – wind power, solar power, water recycling – so come the apocalypse, I can hole up in my mini-castle and be entirely self-sufficient.

  14. a home with six kittens and twelve bathrooms
    If you had 6 kittens, you’ probably need 12 bathrooms. Tiny speedy kittens have tiny speedy digestive systems.
    My ideal house would be close to the city. (I live in the nosebleed section of the outer suburbs.)
    It would be very small and cosy. Some doorways would be so small you’d have to crawl through them. (The house I rent is big and lonely, and watching Grand Designs has really put me off big houses.)
    It would have a courtyard in the middle, with an archetypal tree and a fish pond. (My house is in the middle of a big flat field.)
    It would have an intricate warren of ever-changing tunnels and hidey-holes for my eternally-bored cats. (Sometimes we make a fort out of bedsheets and chairs, but it’s hard to be consistently original.)
    The walls would be made of aquariums, filled with colourful cuttlefish and bio-luminescent fishies. (My house has few windows.)
    There’d be a firefighters’ pole somewhere. And a donkey. And a room filled with ice and penguins. And it would be achingly minimalist, with furniture built into walls and a proper place for everything. And it would never have ant invasions!

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