Laird of Dunans

In one way or another, I've lived in a state of arrested development virtually my entire life. I was sickly as a child, and unable to learn to swim or ride a bike at the typical age. I was a bed-wetter for longer than I care to admit. I'm a decade (or more) past the age when many of my friends began marrying and having children, yet I'm still single.

But in the last few years, nothing has made me feel like less of a grown-up than seeing my peers start to buy their own houses, and realizing how far away I am financially from being able to do that. It's a little intimidating, quite frankly.

However, thanks to my brother Derek, I need hang my head in shame no longer. I'm now a property owner! And not just any property--I own part of a Scottish castle! Well, the castle grounds, anyway. You know that company that sells the naming rights to stars and things like that, and how ridiculous it seems? Well, they also sell land and titles in connection with Dunans Castle (pictured above), and that is totally not ridiculous. Derek bought one for me for my birthday back in April, and it took a while but the deed finally arrived:

That's right, I'm now a Laird of Dunans. Not to be confused with "Lord of the Dance." In fact, I've been specifically instructed that I am not to use the British aristocratic title Lord. Just Laird, which simply means "landowner," ranking "below a Baron and above an Esquire."

Much of Dunans was destroyed by fire in 2001, and they're selling these titles to help pay the restoration costs. I'm not sure if I will ever visit my property; getting to Scotland is tricky enough, and the area the castle is in isn't easily accessible from the main tourist destinations. It's actually not far from a town called Dunoon, where I was once stranded overnight as a missionary because the weather was bad and, as I said, it's kind of in the middle of nowhere.

But should I make it, I'll be able to take a free tour, during which a landmark will be pointed out to me, enabling me to find my "estate." If you blow up the picture of my deed, you'll see my plot number; it indicates that if I walk 5,878 feet north and 2 feet east from said landmark (why the Scots are using English feet instead of metres, I don't know, but they should be ashamed), I'll be standing on my inheritance, and I can raise my arms to the sky to exult in my lairdship. But the arms will have to be straight up, or I'll be encroaching on another laird's plot.

Oh, did I forget to mention that my property consists of a single square foot? But that's one more square foot than I own in America, and one more square foot than any of you own on the grounds of a Scottish castle. You homeowners can have your HOA fees and your sprinkler systems and your drywall and your matching dinnerware sets. I'll just keep on living the good life. The Laird life.