Indoor Pool With Three Big Waterfalls
I would own an artificial waterfall for all occasions: big, immense, and über-colossal. I would adore being rich!
Traditional Horse Stables
My stunning wife Katja would be a dressage world champion! I can picture her now. My Katja: just as amazing at leading an aerospace company as she is at being an elite Finnish supermodel. Wow. Look at her gallop!
In real life, I’m a humble philosophy teacher, at a small midwestern college, who will never be rich. That’s why my fantasy mansion has an opulent library. Hmm, these fancy library chairs feel awful on my back — no lumbar support! Why does Katja insist on these blasted heirlooms!?
My Dear Jeffrey’s Room
My family would be illustrious, and Jeffrey would be my most beloved son… sorry, Edwin and Aven! I can see Jeffrey’s room so clearly, it’s like I’m right inside. Ahh, look! Jeffrey’s favorite arcade game, Monopoly Pinball! Hmm, that’s odd. Jeffrey isn’t here??
Oh my god! Now I remember. Six years ago, Jeffrey disappeared on a flight to Portugal. No!! My Jeffrey!! God, why did I tell Katja, “Jeffrey shall do a summer abroad.” Why must I always push away those I love!?
Corgi Breeding Facility
Before I became rich by selling 60 million copies of my philosophy book, Tragic Utopias, I could not afford the Corgis Jeffrey so deserves. I shan’t let anyone — not even Edwin or Aven — touch these Corgis. Only Jeffrey!! Please come home, my Jeffrey! The Corgis miss you dearly!
Airplane Search-and-Rescue Command Center
Here I pursue my little “pet project” of scouring the North Atlantic for wrecks. Wait! Is that a 747?? No, just another dumb Spanish galleon. The carpet in this room is Chiffon silk. A perk of being rich!
Bedroom With a Nice Skylight
Katja and I sleep in separate beds because I thrash about with night terrors, screaming things like, “The weather has turned! This flight is in jeopardy!” and “We must land this instant! Why won’t you listen!?” I wake up every two hours, sweat-drenched and positively luxuriating in my Porthault Jours de Paris 1,000 thread count bed linens.
Atrium With a Sculpture of Amelia Earhart
Why in the hell did Katja insist on this sculpture!? It only reminds me of Jeffrey!
Kitchen With Six Ovens
I was spacing out, repeatedly stabbing a frozen turkey with my Mizuyaki White Steel Chef’s Knife, when Edwin and Aven ran in to tell me Katja just fell off her horse. Then I shouted, “I don’t control horse minds! Go to hell!” I don’t know why I did that.
Good news! Katja survived the fall. Bad news! Katja has Huntington’s Disease. More bad news! Edwin and Aven disowned me and moved to Eugene, Oregon to pursue their MFAs. They will probably end up organic farmers, or, worse, adjunct professors. Alas, Katja blames me for everything, and yesterday our helicopter airlifted Katja to her new home: a rich person hospital that serves tapas.
My priceless collection ranges from Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son, to Illya Repin’s, Ivan the Terrible Killing His Son, to my contemporary, commissioned piece, I Am Solely To Blame for The Death of My Dead Son. That last one is an abstract work, built from the black boxes of twelve Boeing 747s.
Walk-In Cigar Room With Cedar Walls
My refuge! Some nights I just light a thousand-dollar Gurkha Black Dragon and stare at the ember for twenty minutes before sinking it into my forearm. Whoops, I just thoughtlessly ashed my cigar onto my Oscar Isberian Amur Leopard throw rug. Now the entire room is on fire.
Private Backyard Cemetery
My deceased relatives all died in vehicle crashes. Mostly trains and zeppelins. But not Jeffrey! They never found his plane. Everyone said, “Let him go, Alexander. It’s been six years. Give that boy a grave. Move on.” Never! I forbid it! Jeffrey is a survivor, you infernal lunatics!
Now that fire consumes my mansion, I shall run to save Jeffrey’s Corgis! And Monopoly Pinball! Curses! I cannot run because I suffer chronic back pain from my library chairs. No lumbar support!!
Oh, Jeffrey, please forgive me! If only I were never rich. I can picture it now…
Jeff, sorry buddy, no study abroad this year. We don’t have the cash. Help your mother set the table, please.
Ed! Andrew! Come downstairs, guys! It’s Monopoly night!
Karen! Karen! Oh, there you are. Honey, what’s wrong? Karen?