Downsizing: 5 Things That Made Us Realize a Big House Was a Mistake
Moving into our dream house offered up a disappointment similar to my first Krispy Kreme donut. Sometimes getting what we want just does't live up to the hype.
There is this really weird thing that happens when we get everything we want. I mean, sometimes we’re actually happy and content with what we get. We got what we wanted, now we’re happy. End of story.
However, the potential flip side of getting everything we want is a lot less glamorous. Which is probably why no one talks about it. Moving into our dream house in our dream neighborhood was everything I thought I wanted, until I slowly had to fact the reality that I might have wanted all the wrong things. In fact, moving into our dream house offered up a disappointment similar to my first Krispy Kreme donut, and I’m willing to bet you’ve had a similar experience.
Krispy Kreme first opened a location near my hometown in Minnesota on April 23, 2002. Every Minnesotan and their goulash loving mother were talking about it. I still remember news reports showing the line wrapping around the building. There were new donuts in town, and the whole state was in a frenzy.
Finally, a few friends and I, made the thirty minute trip to Krispy Kreme. For months I had to listen to other kids in the hallway talk about the Krispy Kreme’s their parents picked up after work. I was tired of answering, “No,” when one of my peers would ask if I had tried one yet. Since I have always been one to use my resources, I had no issues with wrangling in a few people who were also K.K. virgins, being sure to include one friend who had a new licenses she was itching to use. We all made a pinky promise not to tell our moms we were taking the highway, and that day after school we were off.
As we stepped into the newly famous white, red, and green building, we were met with a fully-functioning donut making machine right before our vey eyes. Each new donate slowly slid down the conveyer belt until it was covered in a glistening glaze or sugary goodness and I could feel excitement rising up in my belly. This must be what Charlie felt like when he stepped into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory for the first time.
A dozen donuts for me, please!
Naturally, like any psyched up teenager chasing a new fad, I didn’t hold back when it came to ordering donuts. Who cares if I didn’t have gas money for the rest of the week? This was a trendy new treat we were walking about.
I still remember gently pinching my first donut between my thumb and middle finger, the edges slightly softening under my grip, fresh glaze cracking every so lightly. As if in slow motion, I brought it up to my lips, and delicately sunk my teeth into the edge. Mmm, that sweet, sugary goodness slowly dissolved in my mouth, and…it basically tasted like every other donut I had ever had. Except, I think I kind of liked other donuts better.
Krispy Kreme seemed to flatten out more than other donuts. I liked the fluffy recoil that donuts offered and these ones seemed to go limp. Sure, the glaze was good, but not all that different from other donuts I’d eaten. I drove thirty minutes and spent my remaining gas money on this? That kind of seems like a waste.
None of this is what I said to my friends of course.
“Oh my gosh, this is so amazing!! I want to eat them all.”
I don’t know if it’s the natural hype woman in me, but I felt the need to continue to cling to the hyped up craze that had swept over everyone else in a 60 mile radius. These donuts had to be life-changing, amazing, or I just wouldn’t be able to cope. They were the best. They had to be. Everyone else thought so.
That’s when that deep down, dreaded fear started to creep in, If everyone else likes these donuts and I don’t, there must be something wrong with me.
My enthusiasm and desire to fit in kept me going through another donut as we sat at one of the booths near the cash register and my leftover donuts seemed to burn a whole through the box they sat in.
It wasn’t until years later I was finally able to admit to Tom, in the quiet darkness of our bedroom as we fell asleep one night, “I don’t actually think Krispy Kreme are that great.” “Neither do I,” he boldly admitted.
Of course, admitting the we both felt this way about some old news donuts is one thing. Acknowledging that we felt the same way about the multi 6-figure house we had just purchased would require much more than a 20 second conversation in the middle of the night.