We all know that home is where you hang your hat... and where you can remember where you hung your hat when you do. Some of the little inconveniences of travel are expected, like not knowing which drawer you put your stuff in, and forgetting your favorite t-shirt at home.
We stayed at a humongous, gorgeous house near the beach in Hilton Head, where the streets themselves are practically gilded. The people who own this place obviously have money to spend--which made a few of the house-related decisions curious to me.
Just goes to show that we're all different, and a regular home where you can find your hat is more comforting than a fancy house where you can't.
{This house was totally amazing and I'm really looking forward to going back to it next year. Sometimes it's a necessary but challenging mental exercise to recall what there is to look forward to about home, so one can tear oneself away from tropical bliss. Such was the origin of this list.}
10. My electric stove.
I realize all the best chefs cook on a gas stove, and this Viking 6-burner behemoth is probably better than what Emeril uses. But I really like electric better. I'm not a fan of open flame, nor do I like the "click-click-click" that makes me wonder if my house is about to blow up before the pot boils. Plus this stove didn't seem to have a "low" setting.
9. The depth of my bathroom counter.
Everything at these beach houses is oversized, like rich giants live there. I thought the depth of a bathroom counter is standard, but apparently they're working with a different standard there. Some of us don't have great eyesight, yet are occasionally intensely interested in the details of our face. These counters were too deep to peer into the mirror. Good thing I can guess about where my eyeballs are when it's time to put in my contacts.
8. My ceiling fan doesn't squeak--and if it did, I could oil it.
Our bedroom at the beach was incredible. I don't even know what the term is for the fancy ceiling we had (other than "really high"). The bed felt as solid as Penelope and Odysseus's and was super comfortable.
But the fan squeaked. And, being attached to the Really High ceiling, was impossible to oil. Score one for 8-foot ceilings.
7. My shower.
Now, I'm not belittling the size of the beach shower (ample). Or the built-in bench along one wall. Or the multiple shower heads. Or the water pressure, which could peel your sunburn right off if you wanted it to. All that was luxurious.
No. The downside of the shower was that the lovely (and surely incredibly expensive) tilework was a good camouflage for spiders who wanted to shower with me, whom I noticed only after I was lathered up with soap running into my eyes.
When we built our house, we wanted to get a custom tile shower, but bowed to the reality of cost and went with a plain white drop-in. Very spider unfriendly. I love it all the more now.
6. Faster internet.
Blogging is lots more fun when your geek husband values practicality over show.
5. My bathroom light switch, which is located, conveniently, inside--not outside--the bathroom.
Who thought that was a good idea?
4. My pillow.
I'm a little particular about my pillow. Now that I own a pillow that keeps my jaw pretty pain-free, I miss it greatly when I go away from it. Maybe I should stop rolling my eyes at myself and just take it along when I travel, because this zillion-dollar resort home had pillows that were not quite adequate for my special pillow needs.
3. Toilet paper of my own choosing.
Now I'm sure our homeowners reserve the millionaire toilet paper for when they're home and not for renters. But I do love my Charmin Extra Soft and a little swipe of luxury every few hours.
2. A mudroom.
Perhaps in the Deep South such a chamber would go by a different name, but whatever you call it, why, oh why, in a house whose sole purpose is to accommodate people who are constantly wet from the pool and/or beach, who have sopping towels to hang up, and need a place to put their shoes, is there no such place? I spent the week awkwardly trying to find a place for my sandals, wet towel, sunglasses, and hat, that was not in my bedroom (which was like a 6-minute walk from the front door) or in anyone else's way.
Take a hint from muddy New Englanders, genteel southerners. Dedicate one room to skip the decor and just hang up your drippy stuff already.
1. My borderline excessive use of LED ceiling lights.
Apparently either no one actually lives in this beach house, or they don't read books in the evening, because the few lovely but normal-sized lamps did not begin to illuminate the place like the shining beacon that my house is.
This surprised me, as if they could spend money on 90-foot ceilings and custom tile and Viking appliances, but not ceiling lights--but, as I said, maybe they prefer a more natural amount of evening light than I do.
I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.
-L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
Home is the nicest word there is.
-Laura Ingalls Wilder
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