I’ve been wondering about estate sales. Those that might happen for my family in the future. How to do that… So much stuff… how to whittle down belongings, little by little, in an “ok” manner, so that someday (someday far away most likely) when everything must be sold, the amount is manageable.
Looking around, even now, I see things I would want to have stay in the family, but I know I couldn’t keep them. Not enough room.
I hope nobody around me realizes I’m looking at their homes and belongings in this way. But I am. Sort of. Because I think I might be the one who has to manage it all when the time comes.
Noisy Quiet
After all the New Year’s partying and drinking, I passed out and woke up in estate. Somewhere north of Romford.
Zuerst fällt mir zum Word Anwesen so etwas ein, wie ein reicher Adeliger. Der hat dann eine große Villa, mit einem riesigen, prunkvollen Garten und alles ist total übertrieben und luxeriös. Es ist eigentlich unnötig, so ein großes Grundstück zu besitzen.
The woman at the estate sail looked very un-mournful as she enthusiastically slapped the old books into a box and handed them to me. “I’ll be glad to be rid of those dusty old things.” I was just glad I was taking them-I would take care of them.
k
estate? ok. so… land.. land. land. the word really is un
christina
The hills centered about a grand house, filled with secret histories, present scandals, and the unknown future. The grass was an vivid green and the flowers bloomed as if it were paradise. A wild forest surrounded the estate, which was filled with pleasing animals, that was no more dangerous then a fox. But the family. Oh the family. Generations of mystery filled the halls of the manor. Curiosity was written in the books that were taught schools and no student, then and now, has ever solved the riddle that was surrounding that extraordinary family and the secrets that were kept within the walls of that house.
if you live in an estate, then you want people to think you have a perfect life, people who live in estates have no privacy from each other.. they are always going to have to act nice to their neighbours, as they will always see them, and have no private time to themselves.
Ailsa Williamson
The old home place where my heart belongs. where i return again and again and will die .It is the place where memories abound and laughter rings out.
My grandmother’s estate was a grand old place. Lush grounds, lots of antiques. Of course, inheritance was an ongoing and difficult issue to deal with. Especially with so many cut-throat relatives all aching for the woman to die so they could get their greedy hands on her money. They could never manage to do so, however, and with good reason.
You see, my grandmother was no ordinary person. A Nobel laureate, philosopher, photographer and geneticist, she was both inspiring and learned.
Pierre
Ah, estate….I wish I had one, who doesn’t. They are a symbol of status, wealth, authority and some might say happpiness. The estate, one can say is the unatainable version of the great suburban home for most of us, that would have been suburbia, to those of the 17th century.
A.S
Estate sales for green boxes of sludge. Elbows knowledgeable of dead flowers are extremely flammable. Toast on a bucket of flambroles is a strange thing to say. Now estate sales are a nice place to go on the weekend if you have nothing better to do and like to buy the old underwear of dead aristocrats. Enjoy yourself.
The grand estate loomed on the hillside, and she stared upward at the concrete with disdain. He thought she looked stunning- even more so than the house
Jennifer
It was huge, or endless, rather. But more in the sense that you could walk in one direction forever (run, too!) and never get anywhere. It was empty like that, it was nothing but a joke estate. You could see forever but there was nothing to see, you could walk forever but there was no-where to go because everywhere was the same as everywhere else, so why bother walking at all?
Luke
A rundown estate with the
bitterness of souls.
With each one snapping at you
the moment you pass through the door.
You can feel their eyes
and sense their scan
But you know its alright,
you’ll walk out as a “man”.
The newspaper has always been the 4th estate to society, acting as a watchdog against crime and porn stars.
shashank
the estate of the
ways we wind
mind the wind of it all.
we breeze by
in unrooted rites
by right of one’s will
we will live as fit we seem.
Phil
I wrote this for you, the voices told me to despite my best efforts. It may not seem like much but you came to mind like the day we scraped our knees on our escapades about the yard, and mother had to kiss them and father just scolded. It’s the way you made it real.
aldila
Down in Georgia there was an estate. it was lavish, with white paneling, but on the inside there was oriental wallpaper and gold trimmings. everything was perfect for gerotge Smithers, he could sip the cool ice tea on his porch while he’d watch the boats go by on the river. it was a cool morning, and not a single cloud in the sky.
Bianka
I think of rich people. Of acres and acres of green, luscious grass, with rolling hills. A huge, white mansion, maybe with a ranch in the back. For the horses and whatnot. I picture the owner as a pleasantly overweight Southern man, with an intense mustache and a cowboy hat. And I just tricked the site into giving me more time, on accident. Basically, when I think of estates, I either think of rich Southern families or even richer English families. I would love to randomly inherit an estate in London. It’s my dream place to live. Dad thinks I’m nuts.
J
The bubble of real estate has broken. It is something for sure. Greedy paid the price.
owning estate means the estate owns you. but it would be great to have estate if you feel at home with it. so estate can be both home and the enemy of freedom. sometimes it can help you be free, though.
kaorita
There were rolling hills and blooming flower filled gardens as I walked through the yard and happened upon a gorgeous old estate. The building itself had deep green ivy moving up across the outside of the house.
ray ray
The estate had become very old. The siding was peeling and the roof was caving in. All the doors were busted in. And yet, she found some beauty in the crumbling place. She immediately bought it and for one day straight she stared at it. She had an idea for place and she would make it new once again.
The large looming shadow twisted its shape along with the shifting sun around the estate, every second, every minute it waited for its owner to return. Yet the more it waited, the more it became a home for vines and ivy, the leafy grip of decay.
Mary
Journalism is the fourth estate
What’s gonna be the fifth?
The court of public opinion I guess
All around the world people can comment and finally make their voices heard
Let us continue to represent them and each other in the New Year
Leaving the estate sale, i saw the tear roll down her face. In her hand was the photograph of her grandmother on her wedding day.
Gregori Starrett
All that I’ve owned has been lost. To the wind, to the trees, to another land away from me. In this state of panic an honest diatribe springs forth. We looked at one another, first in anger, but settling calmly in joy. We slipped off our sleeves and were lost to the sound.
A. Yayo
she managed her estate, down to the last detail, leaving nothing to chance. she didn’t want them to worry about anything when the time came, not that they were even aware of the fact that the end was near. her end would be shock enough for them all.
I climbed up those stone steps. I stepped into that wonderful, yet old, estate. I sat in the dusty chair.
With a deep breathe I closed my eyes and let everything run away from me. All my fears, worries, and pain. With that breathe, I was free.
Opening me eyes, I saw wonders.
Emily Woods
The dark building stood at the end of the drive. Adelaide stepped down the path, her heels slipping in the gravel. Memories surfaced into her mind, coming up from her past.
Just got confused with the word state. So estate reminds me off Real Estate wish now that I think about it I’m not sure I know it is written that way so… I got nothing.
Isabel
Why do we walk away from the people we love? Especially when there will probably be no one else who will love you back more than they ever did? My heart aches and I have only myself to blame. I was caught up in other people’s thoughts and concerns that I never saw the big picture. I only saw the petty little things that could easily have been dealt with if only I had been thinking with my own head. It amazes me how ‘friends’ will influence every decision you make and then disappear so quickly after. I am left alone to sulk in my own misery and my broken heart is shattered into so many pieces I cannot mend them with glue. Sadly, when I tried, I found most of them were missing. I assume they remain in his heart. I shut the door so many times, I guess I never realized he was always on the same side of the door……….
The estate was dark and creepy. The four children slowly snuck inside the main gate and kept their eyes on the front of the mansion. They would look down and up and down and up. They never found their lost soccer ball. They only saw the front door slowly open up and they panicked and ran away as fast as their legs could move.
j.renee
so i was told once about a guy who put an add in the paper selling some useless amount of property, a matter of a few feet or something. just for the heck of it. and, apparently, he actually got a call from someone interested in buying. of course, i was all “what could anyone do with that?!” well, it was a long time ago. unfortunately, i dont think the guy telling me had that answer. definitely would’ve been worth the whole prank, though.
I’m a real estate agent for life. It’s more than selling property–it’s selling a lifetime, selling memories, selling potential, selling people’s dreams, selling families, selling idealism. You wanna give someone what they never gonna get and make ’em believe in the end that it’s all worth it. I’m also running short on friends for the same reasons.
life
house
family
money
trouble
family will
safe
living
home is where the heart is
theres no place like home
Money, money, money
Chelsea
My estate is an old old home, not worth much to the normal soul. But to me, it is my castle. I can look at it, and see it as it’s former self, and pray that I can put it back to what it once was before I leave this earth.
Mary Lou Wynegar
Jane walked through her father’s estate. The green grass crunched under her feet as she looked for the gardener. “Excuse me,” she cried, her eyes finally catching sight of him. “Have you seen my brother?”
“No, Miss. Not since Tuesday.”
“Oh. Thanks anyway.” He nodded and Jane continued on her way. ‘Where could he be?’ she wondered hopelessly. It had been only a few hours since she’d seen him last, but she couldn’t help but panic. He was only eight years old – he could get horribly lost out here in this maze!
She was afraid to keep looking, sure that she would find a frozen corpse somewhere, buried in the leaves. The wind was chilly, but that wasn’t the reason the hair on her neck was standing up. As usual, what she expected to find wasn’t what she found. Not at all.
Estate
I’ve been wondering about estate sales. Those that might happen for my family in the future. How to do that… So much stuff… how to whittle down belongings, little by little, in an “ok” manner, so that someday (someday far away most likely) when everything must be sold, the amount is manageable.
Looking around, even now, I see things I would want to have stay in the family, but I know I couldn’t keep them. Not enough room.
I hope nobody around me realizes I’m looking at their homes and belongings in this way. But I am. Sort of. Because I think I might be the one who has to manage it all when the time comes.
After all the New Year’s partying and drinking, I passed out and woke up in estate. Somewhere north of Romford.
Zuerst fällt mir zum Word Anwesen so etwas ein, wie ein reicher Adeliger. Der hat dann eine große Villa, mit einem riesigen, prunkvollen Garten und alles ist total übertrieben und luxeriös. Es ist eigentlich unnötig, so ein großes Grundstück zu besitzen.
The woman at the estate sail looked very un-mournful as she enthusiastically slapped the old books into a box and handed them to me. “I’ll be glad to be rid of those dusty old things.” I was just glad I was taking them-I would take care of them.
estate? ok. so… land.. land. land. the word really is un
The hills centered about a grand house, filled with secret histories, present scandals, and the unknown future. The grass was an vivid green and the flowers bloomed as if it were paradise. A wild forest surrounded the estate, which was filled with pleasing animals, that was no more dangerous then a fox. But the family. Oh the family. Generations of mystery filled the halls of the manor. Curiosity was written in the books that were taught schools and no student, then and now, has ever solved the riddle that was surrounding that extraordinary family and the secrets that were kept within the walls of that house.
if you live in an estate, then you want people to think you have a perfect life, people who live in estates have no privacy from each other.. they are always going to have to act nice to their neighbours, as they will always see them, and have no private time to themselves.
The old home place where my heart belongs. where i return again and again and will die .It is the place where memories abound and laughter rings out.
Crystal. Blue. Persuasion.
My grandmother’s estate was a grand old place. Lush grounds, lots of antiques. Of course, inheritance was an ongoing and difficult issue to deal with. Especially with so many cut-throat relatives all aching for the woman to die so they could get their greedy hands on her money. They could never manage to do so, however, and with good reason.
You see, my grandmother was no ordinary person. A Nobel laureate, philosopher, photographer and geneticist, she was both inspiring and learned.
Ah, estate….I wish I had one, who doesn’t. They are a symbol of status, wealth, authority and some might say happpiness. The estate, one can say is the unatainable version of the great suburban home for most of us, that would have been suburbia, to those of the 17th century.
Estate sales for green boxes of sludge. Elbows knowledgeable of dead flowers are extremely flammable. Toast on a bucket of flambroles is a strange thing to say. Now estate sales are a nice place to go on the weekend if you have nothing better to do and like to buy the old underwear of dead aristocrats. Enjoy yourself.
The grand estate loomed on the hillside, and she stared upward at the concrete with disdain. He thought she looked stunning- even more so than the house
It was huge, or endless, rather. But more in the sense that you could walk in one direction forever (run, too!) and never get anywhere. It was empty like that, it was nothing but a joke estate. You could see forever but there was nothing to see, you could walk forever but there was no-where to go because everywhere was the same as everywhere else, so why bother walking at all?
A rundown estate with the
bitterness of souls.
With each one snapping at you
the moment you pass through the door.
You can feel their eyes
and sense their scan
But you know its alright,
you’ll walk out as a “man”.
The newspaper has always been the 4th estate to society, acting as a watchdog against crime and porn stars.
the estate of the
ways we wind
mind the wind of it all.
we breeze by
in unrooted rites
by right of one’s will
we will live as fit we seem.
I wrote this for you, the voices told me to despite my best efforts. It may not seem like much but you came to mind like the day we scraped our knees on our escapades about the yard, and mother had to kiss them and father just scolded. It’s the way you made it real.
Down in Georgia there was an estate. it was lavish, with white paneling, but on the inside there was oriental wallpaper and gold trimmings. everything was perfect for gerotge Smithers, he could sip the cool ice tea on his porch while he’d watch the boats go by on the river. it was a cool morning, and not a single cloud in the sky.
I think of rich people. Of acres and acres of green, luscious grass, with rolling hills. A huge, white mansion, maybe with a ranch in the back. For the horses and whatnot. I picture the owner as a pleasantly overweight Southern man, with an intense mustache and a cowboy hat. And I just tricked the site into giving me more time, on accident. Basically, when I think of estates, I either think of rich Southern families or even richer English families. I would love to randomly inherit an estate in London. It’s my dream place to live. Dad thinks I’m nuts.
The bubble of real estate has broken. It is something for sure. Greedy paid the price.
ok
owning estate means the estate owns you. but it would be great to have estate if you feel at home with it. so estate can be both home and the enemy of freedom. sometimes it can help you be free, though.
There were rolling hills and blooming flower filled gardens as I walked through the yard and happened upon a gorgeous old estate. The building itself had deep green ivy moving up across the outside of the house.
The estate had become very old. The siding was peeling and the roof was caving in. All the doors were busted in. And yet, she found some beauty in the crumbling place. She immediately bought it and for one day straight she stared at it. She had an idea for place and she would make it new once again.
The large looming shadow twisted its shape along with the shifting sun around the estate, every second, every minute it waited for its owner to return. Yet the more it waited, the more it became a home for vines and ivy, the leafy grip of decay.
Journalism is the fourth estate
What’s gonna be the fifth?
The court of public opinion I guess
All around the world people can comment and finally make their voices heard
Let us continue to represent them and each other in the New Year
Leaving the estate sale, i saw the tear roll down her face. In her hand was the photograph of her grandmother on her wedding day.
All that I’ve owned has been lost. To the wind, to the trees, to another land away from me. In this state of panic an honest diatribe springs forth. We looked at one another, first in anger, but settling calmly in joy. We slipped off our sleeves and were lost to the sound.
she managed her estate, down to the last detail, leaving nothing to chance. she didn’t want them to worry about anything when the time came, not that they were even aware of the fact that the end was near. her end would be shock enough for them all.
I climbed up those stone steps. I stepped into that wonderful, yet old, estate. I sat in the dusty chair.
With a deep breathe I closed my eyes and let everything run away from me. All my fears, worries, and pain. With that breathe, I was free.
Opening me eyes, I saw wonders.
The dark building stood at the end of the drive. Adelaide stepped down the path, her heels slipping in the gravel. Memories surfaced into her mind, coming up from her past.
Just got confused with the word state. So estate reminds me off Real Estate wish now that I think about it I’m not sure I know it is written that way so… I got nothing.
Why do we walk away from the people we love? Especially when there will probably be no one else who will love you back more than they ever did? My heart aches and I have only myself to blame. I was caught up in other people’s thoughts and concerns that I never saw the big picture. I only saw the petty little things that could easily have been dealt with if only I had been thinking with my own head. It amazes me how ‘friends’ will influence every decision you make and then disappear so quickly after. I am left alone to sulk in my own misery and my broken heart is shattered into so many pieces I cannot mend them with glue. Sadly, when I tried, I found most of them were missing. I assume they remain in his heart. I shut the door so many times, I guess I never realized he was always on the same side of the door……….
The estate was dark and creepy. The four children slowly snuck inside the main gate and kept their eyes on the front of the mansion. They would look down and up and down and up. They never found their lost soccer ball. They only saw the front door slowly open up and they panicked and ran away as fast as their legs could move.
so i was told once about a guy who put an add in the paper selling some useless amount of property, a matter of a few feet or something. just for the heck of it. and, apparently, he actually got a call from someone interested in buying. of course, i was all “what could anyone do with that?!” well, it was a long time ago. unfortunately, i dont think the guy telling me had that answer. definitely would’ve been worth the whole prank, though.
I’m a real estate agent for life. It’s more than selling property–it’s selling a lifetime, selling memories, selling potential, selling people’s dreams, selling families, selling idealism. You wanna give someone what they never gonna get and make ’em believe in the end that it’s all worth it. I’m also running short on friends for the same reasons.
life
house
family
money
trouble
family will
safe
living
home is where the heart is
theres no place like home
Money, money, money
My estate is an old old home, not worth much to the normal soul. But to me, it is my castle. I can look at it, and see it as it’s former self, and pray that I can put it back to what it once was before I leave this earth.
Jane walked through her father’s estate. The green grass crunched under her feet as she looked for the gardener. “Excuse me,” she cried, her eyes finally catching sight of him. “Have you seen my brother?”
“No, Miss. Not since Tuesday.”
“Oh. Thanks anyway.” He nodded and Jane continued on her way. ‘Where could he be?’ she wondered hopelessly. It had been only a few hours since she’d seen him last, but she couldn’t help but panic. He was only eight years old – he could get horribly lost out here in this maze!
She was afraid to keep looking, sure that she would find a frozen corpse somewhere, buried in the leaves. The wind was chilly, but that wasn’t the reason the hair on her neck was standing up. As usual, what she expected to find wasn’t what she found. Not at all.