When I first moved to Peach Street, my house faced a nice corner lot that was vacant. For someone who gets neighbor claustrophobia (I like having lots of space around my house), this was the perfect setup. The lot seemed small – way too small for someone to actually build a house on the lot. So it became the site of a killer Peach Street Fourth of July block party and a place for pickup ball games for the kids.
Two years after we moved in, a frenetic bidding war erupted over the lot and it sold. And then builders started to lay the foundation. And then the walls went up… 30+ feet of walls. There are decorative lights built into the soffit all around the house, which light up our small street like an alien spaceship about to take off.
Everyone had a nickname for it. The Prison. The neighborhood Wal-Mart. I just called it the McMansion. The traffic down our little cul-de-sac increased 70 percent from looky-loos who would just stare at the massive concrete structure with their mouths agape. Neighbors from several streets over started losing weight as they extended their evening walks to include a spin around Peach Street.
It was like a big cosmic joke. We had been so convinced that if anyone actually DID build on the lot, it would have to be a very small house. Not only did someone build – they built UP, erecting the biggest darn house that could possibly have been squeezed onto such a small piece of land. It reminded me of my high school days when I would have to put on my jeans by laying down on my bed, sucking in my breath until I could inch my zipper all the way up. (Oops. TMI.)
The McMansion is a very nice house. It actually looks a lot like the big Scientology complex in Clearwater, minus the roofline cameras. And the family that moved in is nice, too. Bill, the owner, built the house himself using his contracting company.
But neighbors talk. And my neighbor John, who is friends with the owner's best friend, says Bill is not sleeping. The housing market here is shot. Contracting work is down to a trickle. The bill on the McMansion is over $600,000… and real estate prices here have tanked. It is the proverbial white elephant… and it's very, very hungry. I can't even begin to imagine what his air conditioning bills are… especially with that massive 28-foot atrium in the middle of the house.
They've lived in the house just over a year. Last year there were lots of parties as they "broke in" the new house. This summer, however, has been ominously quiet.
Peach Street is hurting.
