Tuesday, July 14, 2015

A Lust Named Wanda

When did it start? I’ve racked my addled brain for the answer but for the life of me I can’t come up with a definite time when Wanda Lust became my new best friend. I only know that it was a long time ago and that we have remained in step all the while.

A few months ago, I was enjoying an infrequent day of relaxation. I actually allowed myself to gaze above my keyboard and out through my office window. I heaved a contented sigh. A turbo sigh. The laundry was done and the clothes were folded and put away, the groceries were bought; a tuna casserole was baking in the oven that Babe would complain about because he’s not into casseroles although he’d probably eat enough of it to feed a small country. Best of all, I had jump-started my deadline.
That’s when Wanda shoved her pushy self into my day.
“Are you meadow gazing, girlfriend? Seriously? Come with me.” Her seductive voice cut a path straight to my brain. “We have hills to climb, roads to cross and beaucoup fun stuff to do.”
Having little desire to move from my comfort zone or the chair molded to my derrière, I poo-pooed the idea of going with her. Had I not done it all already? Did I not deserve a day of rest? I told her to take a hike — alone.
Wanda Lust is a relentless temptress. She was in no mood for me to enjoy the rewards of my past treks. She forced me to find photos on line (in color) of a beautiful house not far away from my own. She grabbed my reading glasses and made me put them on.
“Look at that, girlfriend. Doesn’t it make your heart flutter?”
Holy Dream House!
Seeing things in real time is so not the norm these days so I was not surprised when I fell in love with that Internet photo. Wanda’s lusty moveable parts and her relentless attempts to pull me away from my keyboard worked overtime on my psyche. She convinced me that we owed it to ourselves to see the other house, not just the photo.
It was Wanda Lust, not me, that placed a call to our real estate friend, Bill. It was Wanda who supplied him with a pathetic excuse for our wanting to see a house that might very well turn out to be the last we would ever live in. While Bill made the viewing appointment, I stared at the online color photos of that particular house and my imagination took off on a mind’s eye trip.
I pictured myself in a rocking chair while seated on the wraparound porch sipping whatever concoction Babe chose to serve for our five o’clock social hour.
I saw myself waking up each morning to the hum of an overhead fan turning slowly enough to make me snuggle under light covers and yawn with contentment.
I imagined serving meals I had prepared in the large kitchen, the exotic dishes I created to the constant amazement of my always hungry husband. Smiling at the thought, I think I even heard him say Yum!
Holy House Hunt!
The three of us, Real Estate Bill, Wander Lust and I, walked into a foyer that immediately wrapped itself around my heart and soul. I knew without even seeing the rest of the house that Babe would fall in love just as quickly. It was the home we both had dreamed about for over twenty years. The large kitchen, the bedroom big enough to house a king-size bed, a real stone fireplace and a yard with enough trees to make us feel we would be living smack in the middle of a forest.
Babe and I are no longer young; we are freakin’ old. We have no business buying more real estate at our age. We already have one too many homes. But what choice did we have after stepping into a space that felt as though we had returned to the womb?
We made an offer and they countered. We countered back. They said, “You just bought yourself a house.”
Holy Moving Van!
That was ten months ago. It has been three hundred and seven days since we unloaded twenty years of collected stuff into our new home. Since then, I haven’t heard a peep out of Wanda. 

Attention Ladies and Gentlemen. Wanda Lust has left the building.

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