Sorry for not writing over the past few days. We have been relaxing over a long weekend in a seashore exchange home. Of course, March isn't the best time of year for an oceanfront vacation, but the climate is warmer here -- a few hundred miles down the coast -- than at home, so I figure we're ahead of the game.
This is the second home of a prominent government attorney. We are using our half of this non-simultaneous exchange a full year after the lawyer and his partner stayed in our home. It's a good thing we finally got around to it, because this house is on the market.
Seaside real estate always goes for a premium (except shortly after a hurricane). We were surprised to see, from the stack of promotional sheets on the kitchen table, that the asking price of this home is significantly higher than a million dollars.
We have stayed in a swap home like this one before. It photographs well but up close one sees that the nice-looking finishes hide particle board. This home is comfortable and we're enjoying our stay but it is very much a second home.
This is clearly a second home. It is a thousand times more comfortable than almost any hotel room, but it is not a real home.
The Californians who are in our apartment this weekend are probably annoyed, as I mourn the impersonal nature of a vacation home, that our apartment is occupied full-time. We cleared two large clothing drawers and provided plenty of space for hanging clothes, but only in the hall closet. Here in the vacation home we have an entire empty walk-in closet. We cleared several shelves in the refrigerator for our swappers. By contrast, we opened the second-home fridge to find it empty except for three bottles of beer and a can of soda.
The empty, impersonal nature of a rarely-used vacation property has its pluses and minuses.
There is not a single book in this house. We had to buy toilet paper and paper towels as soon as we arrived since there are no personal items or household supplies visible. My attempts to make breakfast with the groceries we bought were stymied by the complete lack of butter or oil and the kitchen set up which consisted of one old, tiny formerly non-stick frying pan.
The swapper left us no instructions or personal message. He may not be here often enough to prepare for each swap family. We left our exchange guests a basket of guidebooks, a welcome note, toiletries, and, since they arrived late at night, several quick meals and suggestions for ordering food for delivery.
No one lives here. We can see that. And if that's what we wanted in vacation lodgings we could find it in any hotel.
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