On the first day there, you are a little bit intimidated at all the space and potential, but you soon discover there is nothing to be afraid of. It is just a house, after all. An awesome one at that. On the second day you are just happy to sit back and just absorb everything, absorb every drop of awesome the house never seems to run out of. Little things interrupt you but you bear with them. On the third day is when things get a little more interesting. You begin to actively explore everything, peeling back layer after layer of history and reveling in that magical aura. You dismiss the little flaws you find, thinking that they are a one-off occurrence and won’t detract from everything the house has to offer. On the fourth day you are bristling with excitement and want to tell everyone about your incredible discovery. You gush about the views, the detailing, the ambience, the aura, personality and charm of this prefect structure. When the people you tell nod nonchalantly or seem skeptical you get upset that no one shares your enthusiasm. After your trial week at the house is up, you sadly bid it adieu, vowing to come back.
Days go by, and you start dreaming about the house more and more. So you decide to revisit that house, this time with the intent of finally owning it. Eagerly, you pull into the driveway, nostalgia already tugging at your heartstrings. But this time, with permanence and investment in your mind, you see the house in a different light. Everything you saw before was still there, but this time you spot a glaringly obvious flaw. The house has no basic structure. Your perfect house rests on a handful of rickety pillars, few of them seeming strong enough to support the house itself, let alone you in it as well. All the perfect bits and charms the house had meant nothing without the basic structural integrity. And you finally see what everyone else saw, that the house has been deceiving you, using its fanciful trappings to cover up what it lacked; a basic solid foundation.