There is a man of humble beginnings, as many of us are/were. He is a self proclaimed "black sheep" of his family. I do not judge such ranks to be honest. With honesty, I can say that he has climbed from modesty to self important pompous proportions. He is really quite impressed with himself and expects anyone he meets to be as impressed as he. He is narrow minded, prejudiced, phony, grudge holding, goofy, irrational, demanding, self-absorbed, illogical, immature. I mean, this is one tough person to take seriously. His hair line is receding, so I think that gifting a clown wig just might be appropriate.
On the positive side of this ridiculous person, and there is only one positive side, he has a work ethic that enables him to earn nobly. Then again, I once heard that "money is the root of all evil".
So, Mr. Dollars and Cents, bought an old, 1800's "house". To hear him tell it, it's a magnificent mansion with a name chiseled into the stone above a front "porch" under gargoyles. I call this, because the name is as ridiculous as he, THE KINGDOM. It had a river running in front of it; however, with progress, a four lane State Route whatever now separates The Kingdom from the water. The Palazzo doesn't have much yardage between the gargoyles and rumbling semi's. However, Mr. Dollars and Cents thinks the layout, palazzo, gargoyles are just beautiful and indicative of one wealthy man of which people are green with envy. (Actually, they are red, convulsed with laughter).
To obtain an invitation and to actually see the palazzo from the inside really does take a convulsion of nature. Truly. Once, for some reason, one passes muster and Mr. D & C is either drunk, sober, fleetingly nice, or realizes that your X might have a few doubloons himself, you just might gain entrance into the palace.
Here's the deal. Everything is orderly, ALWAYS. Nothing on walls, counters, no use of dishwasher (hand wash), no dish towels out. Absolutely NOTHING on a window sill. If a chair is moved and will be again in a few minutes, it must be replaced in its exact spot and moved again. He boasts of renovations, modernization, newest, latest technology. There is no "personality" of decor. Cold, uncomfortable showroom is the style of choice. I will give this point: the most enormous television ever dominates one sitting room. However, it has six remote controls and no one can figure it out...except occasionally him.
Sadly, children can hang no masterpieces on the refrigerator. There can be no personalized little wooden signs making their rooms "theirs".
BUT
He doesn't believe in garbage cans (like tall kitchen trash receptacle under a sink), waste baskets (bathroom refuse) or any sort of trash disposal in bedrooms. He permits plastic grocery bags to hang on a door knob, or cabinet door in the kitchen. The only acceptable item seen on the kitchen counter, near the double sink with garbage disposal proudly stands a plastic container (cereal box size). Into this receptacle food scraps, egg shells, cores, rinds, skin, bones, crusts, glop are stored until it is filled to overflowing. Once the container is full, it is walked outside into the "hay field" for disposal. BUT: there is no field, no hay, no compost pile. There are no pigs to feed. Is it me? Q-tips, cotton balls, tissues, empty toilet paper rolls...on the counters. His illogic, "That's what ______'s are for." (His twice a week housekeeper's name) Personally, I think that it's disgusting. But, that is just me.
There are three bedrooms in the Kingdom. No joke. Two of them have NO CLOSETS. None. There are four bathrooms in the Palazzo. You are not ready for the physical requirements to use any of this: In one bathroom, unless you strain all possible arm muscles to have the lever work to flush...it won't! I think I sprained my wrist. I tried sharing an upstairs bathroom with the children. For the first time, I found a "dry clean only" shower. Only the hot water runs and at a trickle at that! The toilet in that bathroom really could put someone in traction; or at least a candidate for acupuncture and a chiropractor. If you have the misfortune to use that toilet, you can flush, then jump up, spin around, lift and open the tank top, push a stopper down and replace lid! If you forget, the next user is cooked. However, repeating that a few times during a stay is absolutely exhausting! There is a bathroom down in, what I would call, a "Man Cave". I think that nothing is connected. Pristine and off limits.
Speaking of not connected: In an upstairs hallway between two closet-less bedrooms, there is a smart glass and iron table with a lamp still sporting clear plastic on its shade. There is no bulb and there is no connection! The still wrapped cord hangs with no purpose!
Now, there are some of you saying, "Come on now, Laura, STOP! It's an old house! We are the poster family of an "old house". We owned a house on Long Beach Island, New Jersey which was built in 1863. It had three stories, eight bedrooms (nine if you counted the maid's room). Electricity was installed by those cute little round switches and wires ran under the transoms. You could hold your lodge meetings in our bedroom closets. I know from OLD and RENOVATION. I will tell you about that house one day, but I assure you that up on the third floor, you could sing in the shower just as heartily as you could on the first! Our children were allowed to live in the house, enjoy it and we welcomed family, friends, constantly! BUT...we never bragged, snubbed, judged.
What makes THE PALAZZO a tour of medieval reform school is not just the misery imposed by the building, but the personality of its jailer.
