Dream Home Doldrums

HGTV is running their annual dream home sweepstakes. And of course it fits right in with my fantasy of making an abrupt left turn and veering off on a new adventure.

Not that anything is really wrong with my current adventure. Most days present me with something completely unexpected, like one of my kids telling me at 9 p.m. that he needs a poster board for a project due THE NEXT DAY, or one of them vomiting in a paper bag in the back seat on the way to school after he looked perfectly fine at breakfast, or me walking out of the mirrored YMCA door and slipping and falling down in the parking lot, spilling the contents of my purse on the asphalt, five lipsticks rapidly rolling toward the storm drain.

Yes, my life is definitely high adventure. But sometimes I do get carried away thinking about up and doing something completely different, out of the blue. A move-in ready home in the middle of the Arizona desert sounds like it could satisfy my wanderlust.

So I filled out the form and entered the random drawing. As soon as I clicked the SUBMIT button, panic seized me by the throat and kneed me in the gut. It shook me like a rag doll, shouting, "You fool! What if you win! What will you do then?"

"It comes with a car," I sputtered. "A 2010 GMC Terrain."

"How will you ever get the car back to Georgia?" panic pried.

"It comes with $500,000 dollars," I countered.

"Just enough to pay the property taxes and take one round-trip flight out to see your prize," panic pointed out.

By this time my eyes were bugging out of my head, but I didn't give in. "I could have fun there, being somebody different than I am here. That house is sleek and contemporary, up to date and new. Plus, no one would dare throw-up in the back seat of my new Terrain."

Panic tsk-tsked me, wrapping itself tight around my chest. "You're a southerner right down to your double helix," it said. "You have absolutely no idea what to do with yourself in a desert with no humidity."

I fought back panic, held it down and instructed it to cry mercy, and I entered again, to show it who's boss. But it refuses to say uncle and as the February 19 entry deadline approaches, I can feel it rising to its feet again. How will it treat me if I win?