Remember dream houses? I am X years older and 0 steps closer to owning one, and in fact we've likely reached the point where I would just drop dead immediately if the dream ever came true. Yet I beat on, like boats against the current, something something backwash, Gatsby ad infinitum.
But the moral of this story is who wouldn't want to live in a house that looks like an ancient witch? Especially with a ghostly peacock loitering on the front lawn at all hours of twilight. What a great way to participate in neighborhood trick-or-treating activities without actually having to give away any of your candy.
p.s.: Go read "The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson posthaste, then fax me STAT with your findings. I found I almost peed in my pants.