As you might have noticed, I tend to suffer from delusions of grandeur. Though most people probably consider me quiet and well-adjusted, it's only because they don't know me well. In the right crowd I am neither of those things.
So until recently, had you asked me where I see myself five to ten years from now (presumably, you're interviewing me for a job, because that's the only circumstance in which that question is normal) I would have an appropriately delusional answer for you:
In five to ten years, I plan to have become as rich and famous an author as J.K. Rowling, but awesomer.
Your next question would probably be whether my family had any history of mental health issues, but eventually you would probably ask what I would do with all of the money, and I have a disturbingly specific, highly detailed answer for that as well:
I would build a house.
No ordinary house, mind you--this house would probably cost all of the money I would ever make in my entire life as an awesomer J.K. Rowling.
Remember the house in that movie The Party? Yeah, it'd be kind of like that, but even better. The indoor stream thing, specifically, is a must.
There would definitely be a pirate-themed bedroom for the kids. And maybe a second one for myself, though the real master bedroom would be on the second floor. To get to it, you would climb a spiral staircase, which would wrap around a very real-looking fake tree, with the branches supporting the staircase. You'd emerge into a sitting area: can lights in the ceiling, a fireplace surrounded by a sectional couch, which would face a huge flat screen. Everything is ultra modern yet natural--all wood, stone, and stainless steel. To one side would be the bed area, which would be a cave. Literally. A few columns of stone would separate the two areas, and you'd emerge into a dark, cool stone room. The huge bed would be against the back wall, with a fish tank set into the floor as if the bed were floating on the water. Shelves carved into the walls would hold my library of books and collection of unicorn figurines.
These would be in the backyard surrounding the natural-looking, waterfall-fed pool, something like this or this. Said pool would be in the middle of a Japanese garden--think this, this, and this.
And this is our driveway.
Believe it or not, there is more, but for the sake of your sanity and mine, I will stop there.
But after Olivia was born, I was forced to reconsider my home-improvement plans. Being a mom is hard work; in the 6 months she's been around, I haven't had much time for my writing, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.
Honestly, though, I don't really think that's a bad thing. I know people like to joke about how babies will eat your soul and crush your dreams, and while that is true in a sense, it's also true that it's totally worth it. I can go without the cave-room, and she will live without her own pirate ship. (Even though I hate swimming, that pool is still happening. There will also be an underwater cave).
I don't mind that I will most likely never have those things, because I'm a grown-up now, and I realize that (most of it) is unreasonable and wasteful. Now, I'd be really happy to have a nice, small house in a safe neighborhood. There would be less cleaning involved, for sure, but more than that, I would have my family. And now that I have it, I realize that that's all I really needed in the first place.