If you buy it and build it, they will come.
Part 1, if you buy it, people really will come. Part 2, if you build it, people will come and jump in it.

There are many good things about buying a house. One of them is that you become hugely more popular than you ever were before, just because you've now provided another large, and most importantly, free place for people to hang out.

During the four-ish months that I've been in my house, my social life has taken an odd turn for the busier. Not that I bought the house for that reason. But it's been an interesting side effect that I didn't expect. There has been a steady stream of people to and fro the house in the recent months, and that is a whole new world for me as a hermit. Most of it is unsolicited. People just like to come see me at my house. Maybe I'm some sort of phenomenon.

The oddest part to me is that I like it. Maybe people like the house better than me, so they enjoy opportunities to hang at my house, and I just happen to be there, too. But maybe, the house is a good thing for me in terms of going beyond my hermit shell, and in fact, letting people come hang out in my hermit house. It's kind of a good thing to let people into my world. So far.

Sure, I still have my moments when I just really need to be by myself at the house. Long stretches of social activity usually requires equal amounts of time to myself to recover. While I really like being with my favorite people, it's draining to me from my introverted personality perspective. But since I've had the house, I've noticed a nice change in that I'm comfortable having people around more than in the past, and I enjoy sharing my home with the friends and people who are kind enough to drive all the way up to see it and me.

Part 1, case in point: nary had I had my home for a month or so before it was volunteered to host my church's Christmas party. I was so flattered at the idea that I said yes without thinking too much about it. Then, I thought about it. Me? Host a big party? The idea was absurd, since as a hermit I've never considered the idea before, and I sincerely doubted enough people would believe that the party was, in fact, to be at my house. Having lived in small one bedroom apartments for the past several years, by default my places were not a fun hangout or even on the list of possible party places. When did I get so popular?

Then I remembered: it's the house. The house brings the people. Mostly, without even asking.

With a couple of months to get used to the idea of a house full of people, I put that time to good use. At first, I was cool with it. It was an honor, it would be fun, I was glad for the opportunity to share my home with my church.

Then, I got really freaked out. So many people! I am a hermit!

It's not a large house. And I have a track record of several years being severely not in the Christmas spirit. Is this a good idea to invite everyone I know over to participate in Christmas cheer? Can I even effectively host that many people without them all wanting to leave right when they get there? Is my house even any fun at all? Will my reputation as being extremely cool be tarnished once people see where I live? The list went on. Freaked out.

Finally, I accepted that the party was inevitably to be at my house. I came to a peace about it. And, I even got excited about it. I decorated, I cleaned, I mentally and emotionally prepared for a mass invasion of my home. All the work in the house would now be up for public viewing on a large scale. Would they approve? Would they laugh? Would they break stuff? Would I have to move again after the party?

But most of all, would they like and appreciate the pinnacle of my house/art projects, The Blue Loo? Would they understand the significance of this bathroom that nearly killed me during a week and a half of hard, manual, redecorating labor? The pain, the suffering, the before, the after? Blue Loo is the center of my home, the place where all things make sense. Would it be accepted? Would it stand up to the hype of folklore?

Saturday arrived, and I spent the day furiously cleaning the house. Floors, bathrooms, kitchen, everything. By late afternoon the house was ready for the masses.

Part 2 of the tale, within Part 1, involves what I have affectionately come to know as the Biggest Pile of Leaves Ever. In conversations prior to Saturday, it became known that I once again had a ridiculously large amount of leaves in the yard. From this stemmed more than one request for a pile of leaves suitable for jumping in. And, what the people demand, I give. I'm a hermit of the people.

I spent an hour in the yard bringing all of the leaves on the ground into one giant pile of leaves, more than suitable for jumping. Nearly five feet tall, and approximately twenty feet in diameter, this pile of leaves towers above all other piles of leaves.

It eats other piles of leaves for dinner.

At party time, people began to arrive. I had the 8-track player going with Andy Williams Christmas, which was another surprise hit of the evening. Who knew that in a world of mp3, CD surround sound, bigger and better stereos of digital sound quality, people would be fascinated by and thoroughly enjoying my Grandma's old 8-track player? Good thing I rescued it from her garage sale. Can you believe she was going to sell such a thing??

As the crowd increased at the house, the pile of leaves caused a big stir. People could see it out the window. They ventured out, looked at it, and were in awe at it's girth and presence. Then, it was leaf jumping time. Yes, folks, my friends came for Christmas, and stayed for leaf jumping in the dark, and the cold. Soon the giant pile of leaves was reduced to a much flatter pile of leaf rubble.

And it was fun.

Where else can you jump in a big pile of leaves? Nowhere but the Tyrant's house, where we are all mature responsible adults - until it's leaf-jumpin' time.

I bought a house, and people come. I built the Biggest Pile of Leaves Ever, and people jumped.

Blue Loo was an unbelievable triumph of intrigue, interest, and approval.

First big party at The Hermitage? Success.

C.T.