Our house had a yellow front door when our kids were little. It was not a color either of us would ever have picked.
When the invasive white flies were taking over and killing our ash trees, we had no idea that yellow meant food to them. We found ourselves with a blanket of small white gnats plastered against that door constantly, a whoosh of them inside every time we opened it, and at last we gave up and repainted the darn thing and they went away.
That and the scientists released a tiny non-stinging wasp from where they’d come from that ate them.
Since then I’ve found the idea of painting your whole house that color unfathomable. Pavlov would say I have issues.
And yet there’s this house. Actually, I know someone with a house like that: he’s a CEO and has to be able to entertain big, and does, and that’s fine. So:
One stovetop, two trash compactors (but one might be for recyclables?), five? no three ovens plus (checks description) one convection oven and a microwave. Don’t miss the faux columns being held up by the granite countertop on so wide an island that us mere 5’5″ types would have to leap halfway across the top of it to pass the dish to an outstretched hand on the other side.
And yet for all that, the kitchen cabinets alternate wood stains like a self-striping yarn knit sideways.
Gotta say, the library with the sliding ladders is a nice touch in that certain Disneyed Beauty and the Beast way.
But a pool in all that perfectly good fruit tree growing area. Nope. Deal’s off.