I am off to visit our friends, George and Lydia Haldey, tomorrow.  They have been having a devil of a time with their children and I am pitching in to lend a hand.  They have one of those new-fangled houses with all the modern conveniences – Happylife Home, that’s what it’s called.  (I am a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to naming homes – I feel it should be more than just a “house” that gets named but who am I to tell someone their business?)  This house is so fancy, I swear it feel as though it comes alive at times.

Those children are at a want for nothing, I can tell you that.  The Hadleys like to keep up with the Joneses… and the Rockefellers and the Vanderbilts by the look of it.  But nothing is too good for their little treasures – who doesn’t feel that way?  One might wonder if maybe one could do a little too much for a child but I am sure those bright children will find a way to dress themselves before they are off to college (otherwise it might be a bit awkward.)  The children have an entire room in which they can let their imagination run wild, I hear.  Anything they want they just think of it and they can “see” it right there in front of them.  I used to do this quite a bit at Lowood.  Although I didn’t have an nice open room to let my creativity come alive; I generally had to blanket myself in my imagination to warm myself against the deplorable condition to which I was subjected but I am sure kids today appreciate how good they have it.

George and Lydia seem awfully concerned about the kids but I think they are just being fussy.  When don’t children seem more absorbed in their own lives than anything their parents say or do?  And certainly it is a bit odd that they children hold longer conversations with their home than any human but why read so much into it?  Why, I talk to Thornfield all the time; it, like every inhabitant within its walls, simply doesn’t listen.  But they brought in someone to look over the whole thing.  I think Lydia’s note got smudged because it looked like she was getting a psychiatrist to redecorate the room, which makes little in the way of sense.  I could have given her the name of a perfectly good decorator.  Of course, the last time I was at their home, I almost needed a psychiatrist for my nerves – lights going on and off, temperatures adjusting for my comfort, snacks appearing for me before I knew I was hungry.  At one point, I turned on my heel suddenly and dove into the hallway trying to trick the house.  It didn’t work; I only succeeded in spraining my ankle and forcing the house to fetch me a pillow and lemonade.

Anyway, I am very excited to see the Hadleys tomorrow.  I am told the nursery will be “shut off,” whatever that means.  But that’s fine, we can play make believe in another room.  Those children – what sprites!  They said they would take me on a safari and if I don’t watch myself they will feed me to the lions, the little jokesters.  What fun – I can’t wait to see what they have planned for me.  As for how George and Lydia are reacting to this whole thing, I can’t imagine what’s eating them.