Thursday, March 22, 2007
One Minute Mystery
For some reason, about once every few months I receive a mailing, inexplicably marked "personal and confidential," of brochures depicting office spaces for rent in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs. Though I am not typically in the market for 8,200 square feet of office space, I have to admit that I find descriptions like "uniquely shaped building" and "Arby's in building" to be a pretty major draw. Plus, there are gorgeous color photographs of these buildings, many of which feature boxy automobiles that are clearly from an earlier era driving past. Ah, to own a Pizza-Hut-looking office plaza in Des Plaines -- that would be the life!
But in all seriousness, I do frequently indulge a bizarre fantasy in which I somehow have the financial wherewithal to afford and the mechanical skills to renovate a stately old mansion somewhere. It's sort of like The Money Pit but without marital squabbles and Shelley Long. I imagine that I'd walk in with a nail gun and a lathe (that's a construction thing, right?) and lovingly restore turn of the century finishes and things like that. Given that I have not yet succeeded in changing the light bulbs in my hallway, this is probably a long shot. But it would be pretty fun. Maybe I'd open a bed and breakfast, except for then I'd have to allow strangers in my home, some of them probably sweaty or obese. Oooh, maybe I could open a detective agency instead! And solve crimes using only my knowledge of seemingly useless trivia.
For some reason, about once every few months I receive a mailing, inexplicably marked "personal and confidential," of brochures depicting office spaces for rent in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs. Though I am not typically in the market for 8,200 square feet of office space, I have to admit that I find descriptions like "uniquely shaped building" and "Arby's in building" to be a pretty major draw. Plus, there are gorgeous color photographs of these buildings, many of which feature boxy automobiles that are clearly from an earlier era driving past. Ah, to own a Pizza-Hut-looking office plaza in Des Plaines -- that would be the life!
But in all seriousness, I do frequently indulge a bizarre fantasy in which I somehow have the financial wherewithal to afford and the mechanical skills to renovate a stately old mansion somewhere. It's sort of like The Money Pit but without marital squabbles and Shelley Long. I imagine that I'd walk in with a nail gun and a lathe (that's a construction thing, right?) and lovingly restore turn of the century finishes and things like that. Given that I have not yet succeeded in changing the light bulbs in my hallway, this is probably a long shot. But it would be pretty fun. Maybe I'd open a bed and breakfast, except for then I'd have to allow strangers in my home, some of them probably sweaty or obese. Oooh, maybe I could open a detective agency instead! And solve crimes using only my knowledge of seemingly useless trivia.
