A little nest that nestles where the roses bloom

Few are the virtues of getting older, but there is one area (maybe a couple of others) in which I am pleased about not just starting out, and that is in the realm of dwellings and finding something suitable and comfortable. I have my house. It's not palatial; just a cute bungalow in a pleasant neighborhood. Even better, it's largely paid for. Even better yet it has accrued in market value about 150 percent since we bought it about eight years ago. Not so bad. If we offloaded tomorrow, we could pay off the mortgage and still have a lot of bucks to the good.

But, and here's the spoiler, we would then have to find a place to live, and that would leave us having to reassume a mortgage. So, I think we'll stay where we are for a while and revel in the fact we're not first-time homebuyers in a market that has gotten not only obscene, but "pornographic," as one scribe recently put it.

Pornography is, of course, salacious material with the declared and obvious intention of arousing sexual feeling and, if it's doing its job, bringing about orgasm. How does that tie in with real estate? Mainly because of the arousing pictorials and articles about intensely desirable dwellings which, while not exactly like the one pictured above, still fall into a realm that is so far beyond the reach of most of us, that its intended purpose must surely only be titillation because, I hate to tell you folks, 99.9 percent of us are never going to move into these joints, any more than we're going to coit with Angelina or Brad, depending on your persuasion.

What such irresponsible reporting of sumptuousness does is merely rub the noses of those desperate for some kind of reasonable accommodation right into the poop. In that context, I quit looking at the Homes sections in daily newspapers a long time ago; recognizing that they are nothing more than screeds for Realtors and developers, and of no consequence to regular folks. No consequence other than to render such people discontented or, even worse, to embark on acquiring mortgages that will pull out the lion's share of their incomes for homes that they will lose the moment interest rates rise even by maybe two percent. That's frightening.

I've owned a few lovely homes in my life. They were very nice and I'll say that I feel privileged for having owned them. One was on 80 feet of waterfront, and the other boasted a smashing in-ground swimming pool. My current home is not necessarily humble, but it is less extravagant than what I had in the past. And, in this current home I am infinitely happier than I was in the two earlier ones. That's mainly because I'm much happier with my life. And that counts much more than bricks and mortar.

But -- and it's a huge 'but' -- what ultimately is to happen to people in the wake of the reality of virtually no affordable housing? Why have the extravagant whims of the supremely affluent been encouraged to prevail and artificially spike real estate costs beyond the means of average income earners? Sure, it's a bubble, and sure, that bubble will burst eventually, but that's scant solace to those who want to dwell in a decent home in a decent community.

As I say, I have my home, and in that I feel privileged for having bought into the market a long time ago. But, I still care enough about those who aren't there that I find their reality disquieting.