WHY?

Why? This is a question, mothers in particular face daily. Why do we have to go to school? Why can't I have cake for breakfast? Why can't I jump from here? Why? Why? Why? It is just this particular question we came to ask ourselves this past weekend Why? We have been looking at homes for the past 2 weekends. Some big and beautiful, some modest and homey and some dark, decrepit and in foreclosure. A couple of homes we went through were in one of Lexington's two Country Clubs. Oh, the grandeur of such a lifestyle! Up to the club for lunch, out to the pool, tennis and golf. Isn't life grand? We found a home that had been on the market for 3 years. Big and beautiful and right on the fairway. Owned by a relocation company, maybe a potential deal? After one gets past the initial shock and awe of a place like that, questions start forming. Why? is the precursor for most of the questions. For example, Why hasn't it sold if it is indeed so great? Why hasn't anyone tried to buy it? Why if I see the bargain hasn't anyone else? So Why? Well as we began to explore the property clues started "popping" up all around. In the kitchen their was a beautiful glass block window. Very pretty. The windows surrounding the Florida room were covered in Plexiglas, as were the windows in the second story, but only on the tee facing side. We went on to the outside and noticed the large garage door had been hit with what looked like hail. Why had the owners not had that fixed under the insurance? Why had the relocation company not repaired the damage? As a matter of fact the entire side had damage to the vinyl siding where it had been struck by apparently golf ball size hail. OH! Not golf ball size hail! Real true to life golf balls! After we discovered this we were shocked that this would not be disclosed! I guess since no one had been killed, that we know of, by an incoming golf ball they didn't have to disclose it! We stood behind a couple of trees and watched a couple tee off. You bet your life, those balls landed right in front of the back yard. The house stood, at the distance of average Joe's slice. Making it essentially in a war zone. Continually bombarded by flying golf balls. It just so happened, that you cold indeed sit out on your deck and be struck by an incoming tee shot. So, the perfect house wasn't perfect. Now you know why.