Dearest Rachel –
It was just yesterday that I was telling you about literal yard signs, and how they serve as a means to determine who to vote for (and who not to, as well) based on what we know about the neighbors who support this or that candidate. The signs (or is it just one?) that I’m talking about today are a little more metaphorical – or maybe they’re just more Meta, for all I know.
Barely a week ago, I was telling you about my current internet – well, I wouldn’t call it an ‘obsession,’ as such, but certainly a bit of a preoccupation for the moment – of researching real estate and the things to put on it. For all the wading through my stream of consciousness, and how I floated down past these particular points, I couldn’t tell you why, exactly, my mind has seized on the idea of such drastic relocation. We have a home here, and deep roots – what would possess me to consider pulling up anchor after all this time, and becoming as rootless as the stereotypical American? More so, even, since I’ve found myself staring at foreign listings, and wondering to myself whether it might be worthwhile.
Even when I try to explain what might be going on in my mind – a sense of looking for something that I might be missing – I’m fully aware of the fact that what I’m researching is the last thing that would solve such an issue. If I’m looking for connections, why should I go somewhere I’ve never been, where I can’t communicate with anybody, and thereby deliberately make myself that much more isolated? It’s utter madness, and I know it.
And yet, the universe has a way of nudging me along in that direction, for whatever reason.
A few days ago, I got something in the mail that looked to be very much like a check, but turned out to be more of an advertisement.
I’m not going to show the other side of this page, not where someone can read this over your shoulder. Bad enough that it displays our address several times over on the page; there’s even less cause to show off the specifics of an offer being made for the house. But suffice to say, honey, that I was amazed that our home has increased in value nearly threefold since we bought it. It’s even twenty or thirty thousand more than what the island cottage was listed at (although given the time passed since then, I imagine that it would go for that much more now; it’s probably still worth more than our house is). And that’s sight unseen, with no cleanup or repairs done. Imagine what it could fetch with a little more work!
Of course, none of that is going to happen. Even if I were to gallivant off to points unknown, this house is to be left to Daniel as a place to live in and serve as a shelter from the world for however long he wants it. This house is not an investment; it’s a home, it’s our past, and it’s our foreseeable future. Still, it’s strange to get such an offer – sure, we get junk mail all the time from one real estate agent after another, but never an as-is quote – and right after I start seeking other places to call home. The mind often tends to find patterns where they really don’t exist, but I can’t help wondering if this is some kind of sign to proceed.
On the other hand, while I technically don’t have one of those in-home assistants, like Alexa or Siri or Dot listening in to my every word, it may still be a case of that happening. I know the television in the bedroom has an Alexa-type function (that I never use, but who’s to say it isn’t still spying on me?), as does the one in Logan’s room (which you think might confuse it, in terms of interests). And while I don’t know about the computer at the ‘office,’ the thing is sophisticated enough to run AI applications – who’s to say it couldn’t be used to target advertising to me based on my search history and current tabs? I probably sound paranoid to be saying stuff like this, but I don’t think this is an unreasonable conclusion to arrive at.
Then again, those same systems that might be nudging me to move – or at least push the idea of acquiring property elsewhere on me – also drop stuff like this into my internet feed:
And this is for property given to them (although, yes, they have to pay the government 50 to 55% of its value for the privilege) as opposed to a purchase I might make. If the natives don’t want it for free, why should I want to buy any of it?
So yeah, I’m getting some interesting mixed messages; so interesting that I figured I might as well let you know about them, even as I ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck (and maybe some reasonable decision-making skills, even though that would be a long way down the road). It’s pretty clear I’m going to need them.
Letters to Rachel 